


RE:

by DVwrites, Osmosian



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Gen, Incredibly British slang, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Simon possessing cats, Teacher-Student Relationship, ULA - Freeform, mentions of depression, mentions of mental health stigma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DVwrites/pseuds/DVwrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osmosian/pseuds/Osmosian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story told through the emails and text messages between teacher Simon Monroe and his often-absent student Kieren Walker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

Teaching, even to Simon, seemed like such a strange profession for him to work towards - especially when taking into consideration the fact that he had spent most of his 'adult' life injecting himself with all sorts of things.  

It seemed even stranger considering the fact that Simon had managed to get a full-time teaching position just a year into his sobriety. All it took was a charming smile and a lie: “No, Sir, I have never used any narcotics.”

The very first class of his first day was a breeze, though maybe that was because of the lack of numbers actually taking ‘The Philosophy of Religious Politics’. There had been five in the morning class, sadly,  although apparently his next class would be a degree more numerous - according to the roster at least. Simon smiled, lifting his black suit shoes onto the table in front of him with legs idly crossed. He pulled the pill tin out of his desk table, inhaling softly, before placing one between his lips and swallowing. Antidepressants were taken out of habit rather than necessity, since they didn't seem to be working. He shrugged, throwing the tablets back into the drawer and pushing it to a close.

\---

_‘[RE:] ….’_

Simon Monroe.

Probably French. The philosophy types always were. ‘Monroe’. Kieren attempted to conjure an image that wasn’t fantastical and purely abstract, that fit that kind of name, and managed a withered face drawn with lines and wrinkles and the kind of frown like a smear of ink that never washed out. He got that far before adding, mentally, an odd, askew and decidedly racist moustache and instead, turned his focus for a moment from the empty email box to the book on his desk: _Religious Politics Through the Ages_. Then the book atop it, _Art and History_.

Kieren leant forward in his chair, exhaling out a sigh and running his fingers through his hair. He’d have no time to grab food today if he attended Simon’s lecture, and nothing on this Earth could make him stay for an hour in a cold lecture hall listening to philosophy about absolutely nothing.

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_  
_[RE: Lecture]_

_Won’t be in today, really sorry. Feeling under the weather, there’s flu going around. Might not be in tomorrow either. When can I pick up the work?_

_-Kieren Walker._  
  
The email notification pinged on his desktop, causing Simon to lift a brow. He sighed through his nostrils at the email. So, his number had dwindled. After a moment, Simon stretched his fingers, composing his reply.

 _[TO: Kieren Walker}_  
_[RE: Lecture]_

_Thanks for letting me know. If you’re on campus at all today I can just hand you what I’ve prepared physically. Otherwise just email me when you’re free and I can make myself available._

_-Simon :)_

Kieren arched a thin brow in regards to the smiley face at the end of his email. Not to mention how quickly the reply came. He sucked in his cheeks for a moment.

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_  
_[RE: Lecture]_

 _You replied really fast. I won’t be outside but I live on campus, I could fetch it at the end of the next lesson I’m in. Sorry, again._  
_If you need me to read up on anything let me know_

_-Kieren :)_

Simon smiled softly at the screen, stretching his legs on the desk to regain a more comfortable seating position. He pulled the laptop onto his lap.

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_  
_[RE: Get better soon]_

 _I was just sitting in front of the laptop, to be honest._  
_There’s not really much to do._  
_This was just going to be an introductory lesson._  
_So since you’re not here;_  
_Hey. I’m Simon Monroe, your new, amazing teacher._  
_I’m adding a couple of things to the reading list, but I’ve brought a few copies to use in class if you can’t get a hold of them_  
_The Communist Manifesto- Karl Marx,_  
_A Theory of Justice- John Rawls_  
_And The Republic by Plato._

_-Simon :)_

Kieren snorted out through his nose and hunched over in his chair, leaning an elbow on the desk to support his chin. The image of the age worn French miser shifted a little, the frown gone.

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_  
_[RE: Thanks]_  
  
_I’ll ebay them. I love philosophy, just so you know, can’t get enough of it - can’t wait to read those books_  
_I hope you have a good first lecture!_

_-Kieren :)_

 

 

 

 


	2. Week Two

_[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: Absence]_   
_[Attachments: #philosophy1.docx]_

_I caught up on all the exercises in the textbook, and I’ve attached some essay things for you to read. Still have the flu pretty bad, stuck in bed._

Kieren’s teeth scraped over his lower lip for a moment as he chewed it, leaning back against his headboard. His fingers drummed over the open textbook at his side, pencils littered on his bedside drawer. At least it wasn’t a lie. God, did he have so much artwork to do.

_Sorry about the last two weeks. I’ll be free to get work soon._

_-Kieren_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Don’t worry about it]_

_At least you’ve emailed me about it. I just keep having people not show up. I’m supposed to have ten in my class and I’ve seen three of them._

Simon licked his lips, lifting the TV remote to change the channel. He hummed softly, closing his eyes momentarily, before continuing to compose the email.

_Anyway, you don’t need to hear about my laments. Thanks for the work. You want me to look over it now?_

_-Simon :)_

 

_[TO: Simon Monroe]  
[RE: You should see my art class]_

_It’s sunday, I didn’t think you’d open this until Monday. And it’s nearly midnight. Why are you on the uni email_  ?  
 _You don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal._

_If you can look over it, tell me if it’s bad. I haven’t been to a lecture. I’m writing from the books I have and you suggested. I’m trying to draw too, nothing is going into my head today_

_Thanks for not banning me from your class_

_-Kieren :))_

He tapped the end of a pencil against his lip now, unable to really bite back the half smile that stayed on his lips for a moment. 

 

_[TO: Kieren Walker]  
[RE: Your smiley has a double chin]_

_Hah, so you’re an artist are you?_

_Interesting. Philosophy and politics is an odd choice for an artist._

_Picking up the extra credit?_

He sighed softly, once again, massaging the back of his wrist, the pads of his fingers hovering over thin scarring in one absent motion. 

_I don’t really maintain a regular sleeping pattern. You should get more rest though, since you’re sick._

_I threw a cursory glance over the piece you wrote. Seems okay, but I’ll go more into depth if we ever meet face to face._

_-Simon :)_

 

_[TO: Simon Monroe]  
[RE: You started it]_

_I would be if I could draw today. Extra credit, yeah. You can’t miss me_

_My little sister said that I look like a labrador in a biker outfit which is kind of true I guess._

Kieren’s fingers paused on the keys, lightly hovering over them for a moment as he considered Simon’s words, on his sleeping pattern, and how personal it felt. He hesitated.

_You should drink warm milk. Hear that helps. Can’t sleep either, so I guess we have some solidarity._

_Philosophy is an odd choice for a lecturer_

_-Kieren :)_

 

_[TO: Kieren Walker]  
[RE: I always end up starting things]_

_A biker outfit? Haha, that’s a funny mental image. No offence, of course. This was the closest I could find to what I was thinking._

 

_The internet is truly a magical place._

Simon laughed softly, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew he wouldn’t be tired for a while, especially since he was actually engaging in a conversation for once.

_Warm milk? Like a child?_

_I should probably get a blanket too, then. Snuggle up in that._

_-Simon._

 

Kieren let out a sharp laugh, unexpectedly opening up the image, which he hadn’t at all seen coming. Maybe if he squinted, he could see where Jem was coming from. His fingers returned to the keys eagerly.

_[TO: Simon Monroe]  
[RE: Well you’re the teacher]_

_I can see what she means. Yeah, that’s what I look like, only with more jaw. Way more jaw_

_I’m sorry, I have no idea what you look like. Except, y’know, french. No offence._

_I’m in a blanket. Two, actually. Because it’s really cold. You should get some milk, wrap up and all that. It’s about being warm, not about being a kid!_

_Or is that some philosophy mumbo jumbo I don’t get_

_-Kieren :OP -it’s a dog_

 

_[TO: Kieren Walker]  
[RE: That’s a dog?]_

_Well I hope you don’t slobber like our friend here._

_That would be a strange lesson to have, with you slobbering on your desk._

_Also, I promise you’ll get no philosophy mumbo jumbo from me._

_You think that I’m french?_

_-Simon :O3 This is a dog._

 

_[TO: Simon Monroe]  
[RE: Which one of us is an artist]_

_I’ve been known to drool, sorry. I’ll bring a bucket._

_That’s if I’m in the lesson. I’ll try to be!_

_I thought that was what philosophy lecturers did - tell you about all the philosophy mumbo jumbo._

_You’re not french? Your last name is ‘Monroe’, mine is literally ‘Walker’, like walking_

_Walking dead, more like_

_-Kieren :o(_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Not much of an artist if you can’t type a dog]_

_Yes, if you’re ever in a lesson._

_I’ll make sure I have a squeegee on hand. And since you’re clearly not that interested in philosophy, I won’t waste my mumbo jumbo on you._

_I’m Irish, sonny boy!_

_My God, that was embarrassing._

_Note to self: Never say sonny boy as long as you live._

_-Simon_

 

Kieren’s laugh this time as he opened the email, not quite admitting to himself that he was waiting for it to ping up on his desktop, was a little bit more than a laugh. It loudly included a scoff, and a grin. Especially at the RE.

_[TO: Simon Monroe]  
[RE: Can you get away with saying that]_

_I’ll be in soon. Hopefully. Yknow. Not that I feel like we should ever talk about problems without dealing with them first but getting out of bed is harder than it looks lately._

_It’s too comfortable_

_I just don’t want to be converted to religious philosophy, I’m not philosophical_

_Sorry! I just thought you were french, because I have no idea who you are and your name sounds french_

_I’ll draw you a dog for the next lesson._

_-Kieren :)_

 

_[TO: Kieren Walker]  
[RE: You’d be surprised at what I can get away with]_

_Yeah, I know how that feels._

_I won’t convert you at all. Although I’ have a strange habit of being mostly right._

_I will speak in a french accent for our meeting so that you don’t feel too intimidated._

_Also, I look forward to that._

_-Simon :)_

 

_[TO: Simon Monroe]  
[RE: Write me a list]_

This was so informal. It was almost like texting Jem, for a moment - though he’d let her go to sleep hours ago. She could only stay up with him for a few nights. But not only was it informal, it felt….playful? If this were a friend, or a chatroom, it’d feel...flirty. His hands stilled for a moment, before going back to typing.

_Just speak with your normal voice, I’ll be fine._

_Any kind of dog in specific? Do you have a dog? I google weird things like that all the time. One day my mum will find out about my internet search history and I’ll be grounded at home for the rest of eternity._

_-Kieren my-internet-history-is-awful Walker :)_

 

His...internet history is awful? A light flush erupted on his cheeks, before he shook his head. Surely it was much more innocent than the place that Simon’s head was going to. Absently, he clicked onto his own internet history, eyebrows lifting. Maybe he’d replaced his drug addiction with a porn addiction. He snorted, quickly closing the window, as if it was somehow apparent to his late night conversational partner.  

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Waterboarding absent students for one]_

 _Hopefully you’ll be fine. My course is thinking centric, I wouldn’t want your brain to implode._   
_I don’t really like dogs. I’m more of a cat type of guy. I have three cats._   
  
_Also, I’m not even going to ask about your internet history. That’s a secret you can keep._

_-Simon. :)_

 

_[TO: Simon Monroe]  
[RE: I knew there was something dodgy about this uni]_

_All old philosophy teachers are. It goes hand in hand with the job. You sound like you’re really good at it though, I’ll have to look at one of your lectures sometime._

_What are they called? We had a cat come to our house once. Ate the food then left. Pretty much what I do when I go home._

_It’s not a secret, mostly, it’s pictures my friends send me, and then it’s just a few websites about...stuff. Art stuff, really boring. Then a few things about how to sleep. Where did you think I got that great advice about milk from? You’re welcome. But mostly it’s porn and I’m not…out yet, to my family. Grounded for life, I think_

_Sorry, that was really personal but it’s midnight and I’m tired_

_-Kieren_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: There certainly is!]_

 _Out? Oh right._   
_And don’t worry about the personal things you say. I’m a teacher, you know, I get a lot of people telling me things._

_Old? You’re what? Eighteen/nineteen? I don’t think you get to tell me I’m old mister the-world-is-my-oyster._

_-Simon :)_

_[TO: Simon Monroe]  
[RE: Better transfer then]_

_Sorry, that does kind of...sound weird, now that I look over my email. I swear I didn’t just confess to you my sexuality, that would be really weird. Can’t write properly, getting tired. So much for young energy, right?_

_Yeah, world is my oyster. You should sleep. Say hi to your cats for me_

_-Kieren_

He straightened his back against the headboard, before breathing out a sigh again, shifting his fingers through his bangs before letting them drag palm flat over his face. Incredible word vomit, Kieren Walker.

 

Simon pressed his lips into a thin line, twisting his neck until it cracked. He hummed softly, stretching his fingers out. It probably was time to sleep anyway. 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Oh don’t transfer now! That’s no fun!]_

_Like I said! Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there will be more confessions in the future._

_Goodnight! Don’t let the bed bugs bite._

_I hope you’re okay. You didn’t send a smile in the last message. Talk to me about it if you need to. No pressure._

_-Simon :)_


	3. End of term

Thank God for university studio flats. At least in the living area for a dorm of 13, there was always someone awake in the early and completely awful hours of the morning, just in case you were too drunk to tell your keys apart from the lint in your pockets or if the electric door jammed, as it usually did.

No matter how apologetic Kieren was to the lad who’d managed to dislodge the door at 2am to let him in, his ‘sorry’s usually fell short to how often this happened. Thankfully, no longer just little walks to ‘clear his head’, now that Amy tagged along. The only mature student this side of England without a semblance of maturity - taking life in one long swing, she called it. This meant pub crawling, despite neither of them drinking, with whomever Amy managed to hook her arm around until 3am, which was a hell of a lot more time consuming than a walk for some fresh air, and a whole lot more pleasantly distracting.

He set his laptop out on his bed, once he’d gotten settled back into his room, bag shucked into a corner gracelessly. It resumed on load up where he’d left off, and he brought up his emails without putting much thought to it.

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: Skiving]_

_First lesson of the semester. Letting you know that I got all the notes. Thanks for leaving them in your desk, the substitute gave them to me._

_Sorry if your cats are ill. Or, you know, if you’re ill_

_Skiving is no excuse though, you should show up next time._

_-Kieren_                                            

             

Simon lifted his head, blinking in the sudden bright light of the laptop. An email? He hadn’t expected any contact from anybody. For a moment he considered simply staying in bed. Like he had done for the past two days; because who needed to get up when he felt like him.

He remained still momentarily, before pulling himself up. His hands shook on the keyboard as he began to write.

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: You cheeky sod]_

_I just want to say congratulations for making it into a lesson. I’ll be sure to bring you a cake or something when we finally meet, Mr elusive._

_We’re all ill in this house. Pancake hasn’t stopped eating grass and throwing it up all day._

_I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Hope everything’s good on your end._

_-Simon :@_

 

He’d settled himself into the warmth of his covers during the time it had taken for Simon to reply. He hadn’t set his expectations on him replying straight away, but a part of him lingered on the other’s aforementioned dodgy sleeping habits and found that he’d been right. He probably shouldn’t have smiled a little at that. He pulled the laptop comfortably onto his lap.

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: I tell it as it is]_

_I like strawberry but I’m not picky._

_Is your cat really called Pancake? What are the rest called? And why on Earth is it eating grass_

_Not to judge him/her, I just don’t know cats very well. Hope it gets better soon! And you get better soon from your plague_

_I’m good, my friend Amy keeps dragging me out of my flat, which is great. Says she’s in your class, gives me the notes. She says she’s ‘one of the three’ and she always does this wibbly finger movement like a magician or like she’s some sort of follower. Glad I haven’t showed up, my mum would hate to find out I’ve joined a cult_

_Guess you didn’t try the warm milk_

_-Kieren (what is :@)_

 

A small laugh escaped from Simon’s lips, before he shook his head.

 _[TO: Keiren Walker]_   
_[RE: I’ll grade you down for that]_

_I’m actually lactose intolerant, so no, I didn’t try the warm milk._

_Amy? As in Amy Dyer? She’s a good student. She says she’s going to come to a rally I’m hosting on the mental health services this weekend. Should be fun. I mean, If I can make it._

_Cats eat grass when they’re sick; it makes them throw up._

_In order: Pancake, Prophet and Disciple._

_-Simon :@ Is a sick face_

 

Kieren surveyed the images as they came, and even scoffed a little at the names. Of course, ‘prophet and disciple’. He could hardly feign surprise. His little mouse icon hovered over the pictures for a moment, before right clicking and saving them. Maybe he could sketch them out a little, give it to Simon as an apology for his tardiness.

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: You’re a crazy cat man]_

_I was thinking of getting a hamster but everyone says they bite. Jem said they were ‘vicious little twats’ when she had some._

_They’re very handsome cats. Sorry that they’re sick. And yeah, she mentioned the rally, petition for better services. Most people in the system are only allocated 12 sessions maximum before going back on the waiting list, which is a huge gap in CBT. At least, that’s what she told me_

_I don’t know, seems like a lot of trouble, kicking off just seems like it’ll get everyone against, uh, people will mental health problems. And Amy’s going straight after her chemo session and I don’t want her to get hurt_

_But she sings your praises a lot, think she fancies you a little._

_-Kieren_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Better crazy than ordinary]_

_Hamsters are evil._

_Still, you can’t think that way. It’s not kicking off, it’s letting people know that things need to change. Talking, rallying, protesting; this all raises attention to the issues. The more it’s thrown in people’s faces, the better. Do you know how many people commit suicide due to the failing mental health ideologies of the government and the NHS? It’s ridiculous. Things aren’t going to change overnight, no, but at least there’ll be some buzz about it. Something to get people thinking. Good on Amy for deciding that this is too important to miss, regardless of her own health._

_I don’t think she fancies me. I think she just knows everything that I stand for and respects that a lot._

_-Simon_

 

Now Kieren let his eyes wander over the returned email at least twice, brow furrowing just a modicum, his fingers hesitating at the hem of his sleeve before tugging it down properly over his wrist, firmly in place. He even managed a kind of disbelieving snort, directed at the email, as if Simon could somehow hear it.

[ _TO: Simon Monroe]_  
 _[RE: I don’t think you can be an ordinary cat man]_

_Her own health is more important, she has cancer! But since I can’t talk her out of it and since she hates sitting at home ‘waiting to die’, just..make sure she doesn’t get tasered or arrested or injured._

_Mental health is important, yeah, but not everyone offs themselves because of a ‘failing mental health system’. Some people just...don’t want to exist anymore. It’s not like, oh this service is pretty shite, better kill myself. I mean, some people probably do feel like that when they can’t get help, but not everyone. Look, I just don’t want her hurt and rallies always end up with someone in handcuffs._

_And I was joking about the fancying thing. Sorry if I sound miffed._

Kieren paused, before breathing out of his nose, hard.

_A friend of mine tried to kill himself. It’s not exactly an easy thing to talk about. I’ll look up this mental health services stuff, for Amy at least._

_Sorry if I don’t email much after this, I’m at my parents for the weekend._

_-Kieren :)_

 

Simon frowned. He’d...upset him? He sighed, throwing a hand through his hair.

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: I’m running out of subjects]_

_That’s not what I meant._

_People aren’t doing it consciously because they’re unable to get help, it’s more that they’re forced into a situation where it feels like they’ve got nowhere to turn, due to the lack of options._

_I’m sorry If I upset you. I would never let Amy get hurt. It’s a peaceful protest._

_I’ve been in that situation. I know how it feels like there’s nowhere to turn._

_-Simon :)_

 

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: This took me a while to write because I went to shower]_

_I get that. And I get that there’s a huge stigma. I just don’t want to cause trouble, agitate people into thinking mental illness is dangerous or...I don’t know. It’s 3am, it’s hard to make sense. I just haven’t seen many ‘peaceful protests’ and if anything goes wrong, it’ll set everyone against it. My parents see people with mental health on the telly and get all quiet and weird. Not everyone is going to be happy about more noise on it._

_It’d be nice, having better services and not having people think you’re a freak for having an illness, but that’s not how it is with sickness, is it?_

His fingers faltered on the keys, re-reading Simon’s message again, brown eyes flickering over the last sentence.

_Did you get help?_

_-Kieren_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Don’t worry about it, I napped]_

_I know what you’re saying, but I can’t just bury my head in the sand while people need help._

_The people who aren’t happy about it can continue living their lives ignorant, but I won’t do it._

_Mental sickness is the same as a physical illness. People don’t call people with cancer freaks._

_I got help, yes._

_-Simon :)_

 

 _[TO: Simon Walker]_   
_[RE: Moses]_

_You make it sound like you’re the modern day mental illness messiah._

_Did help work?_

_076867953432\. That’s my number. I’ll have my phone on me this weekend._

_-Kieren_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: It’s Mr Messiah to you]_

_Help...worked. Somewhat. It’s rather difficult to explain._

_I’m not sure I should be texting you, but here: 07839920392._

_Talk to me if you ever need me, or need to talk about work._

_-Simon :)_

 

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: Quote Leviathan]_

_You don’t have to explain._

_It’s for work questions, and just in case I need to email you, don’t panic. I won’t sell it to someone._

_-Kieren :) x_

 

His hand reached out, scrambling for a moment with his bedside table, knocking off a pack of gum and his tissue box straight onto the floor, unlikely to ever be retrieved. He managed to grasp his phone, bringing it up to open up his contacts and jot in the number Simon had given him. He paused, once he’d closed his laptop lid, turning his attention to the bright light of his mobile screen, be going against his better judgement and putting fingers to pad, typing out a quick text message.

 

_-I probably can’t put you down as Mr Messiah, but you’re down as Simon._

_Goodnight_

_-Kieren-_

 

Simon yawned, watching his phone buzz on the table in front of him. He considered getting up to answer the text message. However, this moment passes as he allowed his weariness to overtake him.

 


	4. Weekends

He wasn’t sure when it was that he’d started missing bits and pieces of Jem’s life, but it had been ages since they’d done the dishes together. They were a tandem of washing and drying, with his own sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his hands rotating a sponge in some weird kind of circular motion over the plates, of which there were only four left to do, and Jem reliably on drying and putting away. No time at all.

Of course, during this whole thing, they’d made small talk where both of them felt comfortable, and Kieren’s phone continued to spark off small, second long vibrations every time he had a text, where he’d pause and fish it out of his jeans, and press back a reply with one hand as quickly as he could with Jem ushering him to hurry up, putting it back, only to rinse and repeat moments later. Now he’d just left it so that he could finish this up, the edges of his lips curved slightly in a very apparent half smile, borne of Simon’s previous text.

“Almost done, and then you can sod off to your room,” He offered out the damp plate in Jem’s direction, directing his increasing grin at his little sister, eyelashes lowered. “We powered through this right fast.”

“Thank God for that.” Jem smiled, making a show of an eyeroll. She missed this, even if washing the dishes was remarkably dull. “It would take a lot less time if you didn’t keep messaging while you did this.” She slapped the other with the towel she’d been using to dry the dishes. “Who’re you texting anyway? You keep grinning like a kid.”

“And you’d know all about that,” He passed back, dryly, though the grin lingered on his lips as he went at the new plate in the sink. “Just a mate, from uni. Not all of us are a billy no mates, Jem,” He looked up to her now, handing her the plate, an eyebrow arched upwards though amusement was evident in his expression. “We’re just talking about the crisis of the universe. Philosophy.”

“I ‘ave mates you cheeky wanker. A lot more than you anyway.” She pushed the other’s side, although her smile was still in place. “What’re you talkin’ about Philosophy for? Is there even anything more boring in the entire world? And if they’re only a mate, why’re you grinning like a love struck teenager?”

“I keep my friends close. It’s not Amy, it’s a guy I know.” He tossed around the word ‘guy’ in his mouth for a moment, the word not quite sitting right. Man, maybe. The grimace played out on his face for the briefest moment before dispersing to a more relaxed expression. “He’s just,” He shrugged. “A mate. Y’know, we just talk a lot. He’s a lecturer, for philosophy, which is why he talks shite.”

She allowed her brow to lift in question, snorting out of her nose. “Kier, you’re not denying that you’re smiling like a love struck teenager. If I was gross enough to take a photo of you, I would and I’d show you your stupid face.”

Kieren threw a look at her now, accompanied by a shake of his head as he went back to putting his focus into lifting the stain parts out of the plate in his hand. “He’s my _lecturer_ , and how do you know what a lovesick face looks like? This is my face, and we’re just talking about work.”

“I see the look all the time at college.” She lifted a plate from the drying rack, wiping the towel across it. “Come on, you can tell me. I know what lovesick looks like, mate, and your face is next to lovesick in the dictionary.”

“Like no-one’s heard that analogy before,” He deposited the wet plate into the drying rack, grabbing hold of the last one. His motions stilled a little, this time, brow knitting together. The time between each text whilst waiting for a reply was spent by Kieren with a kind of dulled down anticipation, that he hadn’t really noticed, and his stomach twisted, becoming unsettled. “Shit,” He shook his head again, hand going straight back into the previous scrubbing motions with a little more vigor. “No, he’s...probably over fifty, and he hosts rallies and he has that kind of charm that an old person has. Like, the kind that smokes a pipe. He has _three_ cats, Jem,”

“Wait so…” She frowned, placing the towel on the countertop. “You didn’t know you liked him? You’re so dense.” The smile she had previously had faded, folding her arms across her chest. “Over fifty? Well...do you like older guys? Does he...like younger guys?”

“He likes cats and philosophy,” Kieren rolled his shoulders into a shrug once more, going to pick up the discarded towel to dry his suds soaked hands on. He leant the small of his back against the counter edge, brow still drawn in, furrowed as he thought over it. “I’m not attracted to him, I just like to talk to him. It’s almost like he’s interesting. Well, for someone I’ve never seen in person.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line of confusion. “Wait? Didn’t you say you took ‘is class?” Jem brought her shoulders up in a slow shrug. “You haven’t seen him?”

A slow breath tumbled from his lips as he exhaled, chewing his lip. “Don’t tell mum, but I haven’t really...been attending. As much. I’ve got all my work in, I just…” He unrolled his sleeves from his elbows, sucking in his cheeks for a few seconds, eyelashes lowering once again. “Things aren’t feeling too good yet. But they’ll get there.” He frowned. “No doubt. It isn’t getting bad again, don’t worry. It just isn't getting good either.”

Jem frowned, humming softly. She lifted her hand, pressing it against her brother’s arm. “You want to talk about it?” A small sigh escaped from her mouth, drawing her lips into a tightly puckered shape.

Kieren faltered at her touch, and the warmth it incited in him. Of course Jem cared. At least she wasn’t bristling away from him, scared that he was made of glass, ready to crack at the slightest contact. He gave her a smile that was broad enough to show his teeth, nudging her with the elbow of the arm she touched. “Nah. Don’t worry about me. You’ve probably got college work more important that you’re shirking off doing.”

“I’ll have you know that I do every piece of my work.” She balled her hand up, punching her brother lightly on the arm. “At least I attend my lectures and don’t flirt with my tutor.” Jem rolled her eyes, jarring her hip against the sink beside them. “So what’re you goin’ to do about it?”

“You know that if mum and dad overhear you making jokes like that, they’ll think I’m sleeping with him for a first in my degree,” His fingers went up to the area that she punched, making sure she saw him rub it, and mock wince, as if her punch had dislodged his arm from the socket with its intensity. His hand fell away, gesturing out flippantly. “It’s extra credit, isn’t it? It’s not exactly important. And it’s philosophy, that’s just...thinking.”

“Even if they did overhear it, they’d probably just pretend that they didn’t.” She shook her head, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, before rolling her eyes at her brother’s mock pain. He was always such a wuss, even when they were kids. “And there’s still no way in hell that you can get a first in philosophy, even if you do fuck the teacher. Unless you’re like the Jesus of gay sex.”

“Talk louder, Jem,” He took up the towel from the side, noting her eye roll, grin returning to his lips as he began drying it, just to give his fidgeting hands something to do. He breathed out a sigh. “I’m not fucking the teacher, and I don’t have a thing for fifty year old men. And who says I’m flirting?”

“You don’t know that he’s fifty though. You haven’t even seen him.” She lifted her hands, slapping them lightly against Kieren’s chest. “And if he isn’t fifty then you’d totally shag him wouldn’t you?” She snorted, a quick, sarcastic laugh tumbling from her mouth. “Your entire face says that you’re flirting. He hasn’t text you in a while, though, how does that feel? You panicking?”

“I don’t just randomly shag-....Hang on, since when did you get to ask me questions about my sex life? Listen, nosy, he’s probably waiting for me to text back, but my sister is being a massive pain in the arse. ” He directed at her a brief eye roll, yet again, exaggerated just enough that it looked like her earlier one, at him. He returned the plate back to the rack for a moment, though he’d mostly dried it, and then caught her wrists, holding her arms far apart so that she couldn’t attack him again. “As always,”

“I get to ask you questions about anything embarrassing. That’s my prerogative as your little sister!” She tutted once again, biting her lower lip. “Text him back, though. Tell him...tell him you can’t wait to ride him like Seabiscuit.” Jem lifted her eyebrows in a mockingly suggestive way, tugging her arms away from the other’s grasp. “Twat.”

Kieren snorted. “Fine, watch me.” He retrieved his phone from his pocket, and guided the screen onto his messages, pulling up Simon’s. His fingers went to the keypad, though his gaze repeatedly switched back to Jem, the edges of his lips curving upwards slightly. “‘Sorry….Simon, my sister...is a dick’...sent.” He annotated, grin now firmly on his mouth.

“You bastard!” She shoved him, growling in mock anger. “Why would you send that? Like he gives a shit if I’m a dick or not! The only dick he cares about is yours,”

His phone bounced in his hands as he stumbled back a small amount against Jem’s force, which she’d likely alight to being greater than his own. It probably was. The grin only broadened as he protectively brought the phone up to his chest. “Watch your language, young lady! What will your upperclass college suitors say?”

“You really think I have any?” She lifted her eyebrows in question, huffing out a laugh lightly. “I only have a few weedy kids into me. Also, what’re you going to do about your teacher anyway? Like...are you just gonna ignore liking him? You could google him, to see what he looks like.”

Kieren’s brow furrowed, loosening his grip on his mobile. His voice raised a little in pitch, incredulous for a moment. “I can’t do that!” He snorted. “How many people in England are called Simon Monroe, do you think? No, I’m not going to stalk him like I have some sort of...weird crush on him.”

“Don’t you though?” Her eyebrows wiggle playfully, placing herself on a nearby kitchen chair. She pushed it back, reclining on only two legs. “I’m sorry to say this brother, but I think texting him every day classes as stalking.”

“He texts me back!” He protested, brow still knitted in a frown.

“As much as you text him, because then he’s doing some high class stalking of his own.” She laughed softly, almost toppling over on the chair that she was sitting on, but catching herself on the table edge in her last moments of coordination.

He managed to make sure she caught the eye roll, and the way he shook his head, breathing out hard from his nose. Mostly at her near miss with the chair, partly due to her playful stalking comments. He threw her a look over his phone as his thumbs went to the keypad again, actually writing out a message this time.

_Help, I’m enduring slave labour. Washing dishes._

_-Kieren_

Jem copied her brothers eye movements, scrunching her face into a mocking sneer. “Shut up.”

 

_Escape from there! I can meet you with enough money to help you make your own way!_

_-Simon_

 

He mouthed out her words back at her, the corners of his mouth lifting into another warmer grin before his gaze shifted to his phone again. “Try not to hurt yourself,” His fingers paused on the keys, self aware of the curvature of his own lips now, it faltering even. Shit. Maybe he was coming across as flirty. Or, God forbid, Jem was right. He worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, before his thumbs moved onto the buttons.

_See you there Clyde_

_-Kieren_

_I wouldn’t have guessed that you prefer to be Bonnie._

_-Clyde_

 

_Amy says I’m gorgeous, it makes sense_

_-Bonnie_

 

Kieren managed to bite back the laugh before it fell from his lips as he’d read over Simon’s reply, before it fell away again and he shoved his phone back into his pocket, running his fingers through hair, sucking in a breath between his teeth. “Jem, I’m going up, you know where I am if you need me, yeah?”

“I won’t need you, don’t worry about it.” She smiled is a sweetly sarcastic way, pulling her hair into a tight pony tail. “Go curl up in bed talking to your fifty-year-old man.”

 

_She says you’re more than gorgeous apparently. Moregeous. I don’t know how she’s planning on spelling it when she sends it to Oxford Dictionaries._

_-Clyde_

“Dick,” He threw back at her, offering her a smile before turning heel to pass through the kitchen door and head to the stairs, bringing his phone out as he moved up them. If he was going to dismiss whatever weird feeling unsettled his stomach, he should probably start with this whole smiling at his screen thing.

_Yeah she said, she won’t tell me what you look like until I attend one of your lectures. Gotta see your ‘magic for myself’ which sounds a little pimpy to me but you know. Hope you live up to it because I’m really, really bad at philosophy_

_-Bonnie_

 

_Oh I’m sure you’ll be absolutely blown away. I have that effect on people. I was thinking, as long as you keep handing work it, it’d probably be difficult for you to fail, so you can just grab the extra credit. Also, how many nicknames do I even have now?_

_-Simon_

 

_I should attend once at least, the uni won’t be happy with be constantly shirking off. I’m the worst for flu._

_Amy has given you like 10_

_-Morgeous_

 

_Some people are just more susceptible to things like that. Maybe you should check your immune system at a doctor._

_What are they?_

_-Simon_

 

_I don’t really want to talk to a doctor. Last time they just got all weird and serious and my mum cried, she was so worried._

_God knows, you should ask her. Don’t you have her phone number?_

_-Kieren_

 

_Weird and serious? Aren’t doctors supposed to be serious? I’ve had a couple crack some jokes. It was...weird._

_No, why would I?_

_-Simon_

 

Kieren hesitated now, having moved to sit on his bed, leaning back against the headboard again. He raised an eyebrow.

_I’ve got enough to do at uni without them poking around me. And my parents would just get worried._

_You have my phone number_

_-Kieren_

_Well, you gave it to me._

_I don’t really think that that’s the right way of thinking._

_Seems damaging._

_-Simon_

_You gave me yours._

_Not to my parents._

_-Kieren_

 

_After you gave me yours, yes._

_Are you okay?_

_You seem...upset?_

_-Simon_

 

_Yeah, just falling asleep_

_Sorry if I sounded like I was being a twat_

_-Kieren_

 

Simon let a breath fall from his nose, closing his eyes momentarily. His left hand lifted, rubbing a thumb across the scarred bumps in his wrist. It was always difficult on the days where he didn’t have much to do.

_I don’t think you could ever be a twat._

_Sorry if I’m keeping you up._

_-Simon_

Of course, he wanted to keep him up. His entire body ached.

 

_It’s okay, I’m back on campus tomorrow. I can send you emails all night as usual_

_Don’t worry about it, my sleeping is shite, you know that_

_-Kieren_

He let out a long, drawn out sigh, shoulders slumping a little as he slid further down the headboard. He might as well toss the phone aside for now, and actually get some sleep before he further dug himself into some awkward shit with his lecturer. His lecturer, the epitome of inappropriate attraction. Maybe he was just letting Jem’s playful banter sink in a little too hard. He hesitated on putting his phone beside his pillow, thumbs going back to the pad.

_Night, Mr Messiah_

_-Kieren_

 

Simon read the last message he sent twice, before he sighed, sitting up in his bed and running a hand across his face. Perhaps it was for the best. Maybe he shouldn’t use his student as an escapist method. His tongue pressed against his lips thoughtfully, before lifting his phone to his face once again, squinting in the harsh light.

_Goodnight, Bonnie._

_-Simon_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: Just an update! Chapter...five? Yeah, chapter five should be up tonight! We have some actual interaction with Amy! PhalosMiku plays her beautifully, I'm really impressed omg. Also, thank you for your sweet comments and the kudos.  
> Also, Simon and Kieren meet in the next chapter, and I'm already laughing at what happens.


	5. Rally

_This rALLY IS BRILLIANT!! xxx -Amy :)_

_I lost my shoe, had Simon carry me, we can keep this one_

_text me when you can you big mopey! getting worried xxx - Amy_

_Rally over!! What a day! point made I think time to go home, grabbing a cheeky burger with simon_

_wake up Kieren Walker, the sun has gone down! xxxx - Amy :)_

Kieren’s fingers pushed at his temple for a moment, massaging away the remnants of a headache - the kind you got from oversleeping, though a moderate amount of his time in his room today had been spent focusing on prying out some form of artistic talent from his fingers into the paper. He’d pressed to his clipboard a picture of a withered old man, and the pictures of Simon’s three cats, with their sketches next to them. When he’d finally crawled back into bed, he remembered his phone, discarded under his pillow, on silent.

Amy’s messages brought a warm, kind of lopsided grin to his lips, calming a little of that restlessness in his bones, distracting him from the suffocating smallness of his room for a moment.

_How was chemo? You home safe?_

_-BFF_

_A bit crap! Had to keel and vom on the road a little, but I reckon that just scared them into acknowledging our protest a bit more_

_Our handsome white knight host kept me in check_

_you should have come!! where have you been all day? xxxx - Amy_

 

_Gotta catch up on work, painted a cat_

_Visit me when I’m in the Louvre_

_-Kieren_

 

_Dedicate a painting to me and our beautiful june wedding and I’ll be right there! xxx_

_-Amy_

He felt a warmth constrict his chest, smile broadening, alongside a kind of guilt; like he could hardly ever deserve this kind of love, that Amy was full of, and had so much to give.

 

_Honestly, it looks nothing like a cat,_

_it looks like a bike_

_-Kieren_

 

_Then you’ll be the first person in the Louvre to present a painting of a bike-cat, artists will be amazed_

_Meet me before class tomorrow! Philosophy, three will become four xxxx - Amy_

Almost just as quickly as that text arrived, another followed.

 

_Feeling okay, Kieren Walker? Hold out so that I get your beautiful face tomorrow_

_you can put your head in my lap in the lecture and I'll stroke your hair_

_you’re morgeous! <3 xxxxxxxx -Amy_

 

_Yeah! Yeah I’m okay, just gonna go out for a walk_

_Clear my head_

_sounds good, see you tomorrow!_

_you’re morgeous...er_

_xxx_

_-Kieren_

 

-

 

That text was ten minutes ago.

Ten minutes ago, Kieren was warmer and his breath wasn’t departing from his lips in small mists and his hands weren't jammed into the furthest parts of his leather jacket, thinking now that the woolly one might have been a better choice. But really, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to really care about his warmth, or the way his stomach hung in his throat, burning.

Ten minutes ago, Kieren let the door, the one that always jammed, swing shut behind him as he started his walk out across campus, and in ten minutes, he’d done a full circle and come to the humanities centre, right next to the reservoir area, the lake that he’d definitely seen people toss cigarette ends into. He found himself next to one of the trees, bits of twig and earth shifting under the weight of his boots, breathing a little heavier with the strain of his walk.

And he just stopped, and breathed, because everything felt like his lungs were submerged and his head felt foggy and for _fuck’s sake, Kieren,_ a whole term. This wasn’t how he’d planned it. His fingers ran through his hair, palms resting and becoming still over his eyes, taking one deep breath.

The rally, for Simon, had been a success. Of course, it was unlikely that one protest was going to change a whole lot, but it was a stepping stone to his ultimate goal. Simon smiled as he whistled; the whistles echoed through the air.

He loved to walk in the night time, especially when the air was crisp and almost cold. Unable to keep his fingers steady on the journey from his car to his office- to pick up some unmarked papers- he allowed himself to toy with his keys, the jingling joining the whistling and becoming the only sounds surrounding him.

The whistle that punctuated the air found its way to Kieren’s ears, where he looked towards the curve at the end of the campus road, able to make out a figure. Like standing next to the lake wasn’t moderately suspicious. Maybe they’d assume that he was high. Or he could just walk by them, quick enough that he hardly allowed him a moment to talk. Or he could just motivate himself to go head first into the lake.

Inevitably, what really happened was that Kieren remained standing, shoulders stiff and rounded up, hunched against the cold, jaw clenched, looking as inconspicuous as you he could at this time of night whilst still shifting your weight between your feet. 

Simon stilled at the sound of scuffling, and the figure shadowed next to the lake. His hand clenched around the keys, should they come in handy if the situation became dangerous. “Evening. Are you okay? Do you need any help?”

Kieren’s hands retracted from his pockets, only so that they could rub together against the cold, and so that the other wouldn’t assume he was habouring a knife, ready to shank him or something. If a knife could get through the jumper and parka combo, even. He arched an eyebrow, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, yeah. No, just...walking. Look, I’m not stoned off me face or anything, don’t worry,” He offered, blowing into his cupped hands now.

“That’s good.” A small smile curled on his face, closing some of the distance between them. “I don’t know where students get the weed from around here. It seems a constant supply.”

After a moment of silence Simon shrugged, licking his lips. “Do you want to talk about something?”

“Something?” Kieren echoed. He lowered his hands, continuing to look over the approaching stranger, hunched up shoulders seemingly a little more tense than they had before. He then rubbed his hands together, if anything to quell the slight tremor they had. “I’m just having a pretty shite day.” He surmised, finally, voice laced with a kind of forcefulness - the kind that came with swallowing down the lump that arose in your throat, and he felt his voice fray at the edges as he spoke.

“I can see that.” He smiled softly, pushing his keys back into his pocket. Simon doubted that he’d have to use them to defend himself. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“I’ve got…” He began, finding his ability to speak catching in his throat. His arms gestured out in one frustrated motion, shoulders slumping forward as he did, before pushing his palms against his eyes as they stung with the hotness of pooling liquid. “I’ve got nothing to say, nothing happened, it’s just…” He pulled his hands down, but not before wiping at his eyes with jutted motions. “I know you have better things to do than stand around waiting for a student to explain why he’s wandering around at night. I’ll be fine, you can go,”

A soft frown pressed against his forehead, stepping just a little closer to the other. He was blonde, soft looking: The sort of guy that Simon might be into, if the circumstances were different. “Hey, I get it. You don’t want to talk to a stranger about it. Just tell me you have somebody to talk to, so I know you won’t be alone.”

This time, after a considerable pause, he nodded. The tenseness re-appeared at the other’s closeness, and his hands pushed into the depths of his pocket. He thought of the phone, resting now against his fingers, and the text messages from Amy. He thought of Jem’s number, sitting in his contact list. “Yeah. Yeah I could just...I’ll text someone. Thanks.”

Simon nodded, smiling at the other. “Just be careful, okay? Things are sometimes hard, but they do get better.” A soft hum fell from his mouth. “Good luck.”

Another kind of nod, again, and Kieren rubbed at his eyes with his fingers for good measure. Not that he could aptly disguise, now, that upon being asked by a man who closely resembled a charming Irish mafia member in a jumper with several cats on them if he was okay, which, when standing by an on campus lake late at night should have been a clear enough indication, that he’d choked up. “Yeah, I’m gonna walk back, I’m just over on the right side of campus. I’ll call someone or something,” He offered, shifting between his feet before he put them into motion, going to walk past him. He just needed to get home. His fingers curled around the phone in his pocket, glancing back at the other male, before setting his gaze straight forward.

Simon watched the younger male leave. The tip on his tongue pressed between his lips. He considered, only momentarily, chasing the other, and making sure that he got home okay. Or even asking him for coffee. However, he quickly dismissed this idea, and shook his head, turning to walk back to his own office.

He managed to collect the papers from his desk, before returning to his car. He sighed, pressing his seatbelt into it’s buckle securely, before lifting his gaze to the vibrating mobile on his dashboard.

 

_Just got in. Long night. Amy said the rally was great_

_Saw a cat on my way home and thought of you_

_Hope you got home safe_

_-Kieren_

_I should be home soon._

_It went really well._

_I’m safe._

_How about you?_

_-Simon_

_Met a guy. That’s as eventful as my day gets_

_I drew your cats, I’ll bring it to your lecture_

_Apology present_

_-Kieren_

_Are you actually coming or is this just teasing me?_

_Because it’s just not a nice thing to do._

_-Simon_

_Amy wants three to become four_

_and I have no idea what this next chapter means_

_I’m gonna get some sleep early_

_Night, Simon_

_-Kieren_

_Oh, okay._

_I’ll talk to you soon._

_Ask me whatever about the chapter._

_I’m here to help!_

_Sleep well._

_-Simon x_

 

And when Kieren finally let sleep take him, the image of the other disappeared to the back of his mind, just another stranger amongst hundreds on campus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we said they'd meet! Winkity wink!


	6. Mondays

_got lost in the taxi! sorry!_

_I know I was supposed to be there in an hour_

_but my Philip is busy and the good old painkillers kicked in so here I am!_

_this is definitely your door?? -Amy xxx_

_Okay THIS one is definitely your door_

_Let me in! - Amy xxxx_

 

Simon, who was in a state of semi-undress, quickly pulled the shirt, that he had been intending to take off, down. He sniffed, lifting his head at the sound of the doorbell. “Oh…” Stepping towards the door, his hands lifted, shaking as they pulled down the handle. Pancake pressed her head against Simon’s ankle, peering at the door. “Hello, Amy.”

“And there’s my handsome host!” A grin stretched Amy’s lips apart, reaching out her hands to spread them over the hem of Simon’s shirt, pulling them close together over his chest. “Did I wake you? Oh! Who’s this!” She drew in a sharp, almost theatrical gasp as she bent at the knees to address the feline mincing around Simon’s legs. “Look at that face! Oh, aren’t you the most gorgeous cat I’ve ever seen?” Amy ducked her hands under said cat, lifting it into her arms as she straightened up, cradling it like a baby, beaming widely. “God, I might just kidnap her!”

“You’ve always struck me as a thief.” He smiled softly, straightening the shirt that she’d moved. “I actually was just getting dressed. I spilt tuna over this shirt. You can probably tell by how I smell.” Simon grimaced at the odour that supposedly lingered on his shirt, emphasizing his point,  before lifting his hand to stroke the back of Pancake’s neck. “This is Pancake.”

“Hello, Pancake! Oh, she made a cat noise! I bet you have a flat bowl for your flat face,” She cooed, fingers scratching behind the cat’s ears, before lifting her gaze back up to Simon. “I was going to get a therapy pet, for y’know, the big bad _C-word,_ ” She mock grimaced, putting a strain on her voice as she spoke, before her expression relaxed. “But Philip is allergic to cats and who needs a pet when I look after him, and my wonderful Kieren?”

“A flat bowl? You mean a plate?” Pancake fussed in Amy’s arms until Simon lifted her from the other, and put her down on the ground. “Sorry. She’s a princess. Also, there’s a plate of tuna with her name on it. If...Disciple and Prophet haven't eaten it yet.” He smiled, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “I’ll...just get dressed.”

“No, just a flat bowl, dummy!” She pulled her jacket closer around her, offering Simon one of her warmer, welcoming smiles as she moved past him, into his hallway. Her fingers trembled with their grip still on her jacket as she twirled in the midst of his living room, taking in the lack of pictures, and the plain wallpaper with the small indents of scratch marks at the bottom, the evidence of his house companions.

When she finally glanced back at him, ignoring the ache in her bones, she raised her eyebrows. “If you show me to your grand kitchen and your kettle, I’ll make us both a cuppa, and you can change your shirt.”

“Believe me, it’s not that grand.” He smiled softly, pressing his hands to her shoulders and steering her towards the direction of his kitchen. “It’s not even _grande_ in the french sense of the word. More like _petite_.”

“Oh, get your fancy french words. When are you not teaching?” She made for his kettle, cupboards first, prying them open.

A shorthaired, dark coloured cat jumped atop the counter, pulling her attention from wherever the teabags remained. “Oh, look at you, you handsome devil! I can smell tuna on you a mile off,” She grinned, going to scratch behind his ears, as she had Pancake. “You’re an enigma, Mr Monroe. Here I thought you were all serious causes and deep philosophy, when you’re really just a semi-shirtless crazy cat man!” She reached out to flick the switch on the kettle, letting it begin to boil, before picking up the cat and holding it to her chest, despite its apparent squirming. “Oh, I just want to eat them up! If you ever get kittens, let me know, I’ll take them all off your hands,”

“I thought that Phillip was allergic.” He smiled, yawing softly; he hadn't been able to sleep much in the last few days. “It’s not the first time I’ve been called a crazy cat man.” Turning his back on her, he lifted his shirt off of his body, grabbing the one he’d intended to change into earlier. “He’s Prophet.”

“Well, I can’t actually take them all of your hands, but I can definitely hold them for as long as I can,” She placed a kiss atop the wriggling cat in her arms, right where she stroked him, at his ears. “Like you, Mr Prophet!” She cooed down to him, turning so that she leant her back against the counter. Her gaze lifted to Simon, the expanse of skin of his back, and the scar that interrupted it like burnt earth amongst grass. It painted a fading red against Simon’s paler complexion, riding down the nodes of his spine, settled between his shoulder blades.

Her fingers gently stroked beneath the feline’s chin. Smile faltering, just a little. “Does that still hurt?”

“Huh?” He frowned, leaning his arm around to touch the scar on his back. “Oh, I guess, sometimes. It aches a little.” Simon shrugged himself into the new shirt, tugging a jumper on afterwards, before turning his focus back to Amy. “Prophet will bite you at some point.”

“He already tried! And failed, I’m far too quick for him. I had cat like reflexes, back in my prime,” She mused, though her hand stayed away from Prophet’s head area now and instead settled for stroking at the fur on his stomach.

“Looks like a pretty big surgery scar. You are a truly mysterious man, sir.” She smiled; this time, it lingered, a gentler, unassuming version of her previous ones.

He nodded, licking his lips, before stooping down and moving the tuna plate closer to Pancake. “It is. I was in a car accident.” Simon lifted a brow, lips pressed into a thin line. “They had to do some...spinal work. I’m pretty lucky.” Still, he felt anything but lucky.

“Your superhero back-story,” Amy let the cat clamber out of her arms and drop to the floor now, not looking best pleased, leaving her wiping what seemed like ten tonnes of moulted cat hair onto her dress from her hands.

She then closed the space between them, and enveloped him into her arms, where they wrapped around his waist, completing his personal space as she rest her head against his collar, constricting her arms around him. “How about we work on making you feeling better, my dashing white knight? It’ll give me something to take my mind off the thorn in my side. Chemo is a heartless bitch.”

“I feel fine.” He smiled, pressing her back softly from her shoulders. “And I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be hugging your teacher like this, Amy.”

“I’m at your house, touching up your cats. All rules are beyond broken, now,” She remained against him, squeezing again for good measure. “And I think the kettle boiled ages ago. Which reminds me!”

Amy pulled herself from the other, grin fully upon her lips once again. Her hands dug into her pocket, finding her phone and holding it out. She quickly skimmed over the new message.

 

_Where did you go after that lecture?_

_Thought you were getting Philip_

_-Kieren xx_

 

“I have a whole five minute video, if my phone actually works this time, of me trying to teach Kieren the cup song and him getting it horribly wrong. Cheers me up,” She leant in at his side, holding her phone sideways as she loaded up her gallery. “Want a look? Speak now, or forever hold your peace!”

“I don’t know. Would he want you to show me?” He lifted an inquisitive brow. What on earth was the cup song? “I mean, feel free, but it’ll be our secret if he doesn’t like it.”

“He’s adorable! He knows I think he’s gorgeous no matter how incapable of doing the cup song he is,” She laughed, as if it came from a never depleting supply of warmth in her stomach, bringing up the video.

Instead of the recording she’d expected, a white text error message replaced it. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Bugger,”

She sighed, lowering her hands, pushing the phone back into the pocket of her jacket. “I’ll just have to upload and email it to you. And speaking of Kieren, I was supposed to go back to get him ten minutes ago, but your wonderful face and beautiful cats distracted me,”

“We have that effect on people.” He laughed, biting back the disappointment at not being able to watch the video. Perhaps he and Kieren weren't destined to meet. Not that...it mattered much. Momentarily uncomfortable, he tugged down the hem of his shirt, if only to give his hands something to do. “You should be getting back then.”

“Come with me!” She took up his hands as they moved, giving them a reassuring squeeze, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles on them. “Or at least tell me that you’ll be okay here, on your lonesome. You and Kieren are giving me grey hair for worry.”

“I’m always okay.” He squeezed her hands back, smiling softly. “Honestly, don’t worry about me. I’ll be in class tomorrow, so you’d better have done your work.”

“You weren’t in today,” Her brows knitted together, smile careful, aware of treading on sensitive ground in her mission to be comforting.

“Oh…” He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I forgot to set my alarm and overslept. Stupid right?”

Amy gave him a pointed look, releasing her grip on his hands. “You’d have still turned up. But you don’t need to tell me, I just want you to make sure you don’t force yourself in tomorrow if you feel you can’t make it.” She moved onto her tiptoes, only a little, to place a kiss on his cheek. “It’s a good job I gave you my number during that rally. Now you can text me if you need a pep talk,”

“Amy, I’m the teacher here.” He reminded her, breathing out, another gentle laugh lacing it. “Now go away. Keiren’ll be worried sick.”

“I owe you a cuppa!” She beamed, heading back out through his hallway, only bending down once to stroke Pancake’s back. “Bye, Simon! Bye cats! Come close the door behind me,” She threw him a smile over her shoulder, pulling his front door open. “And remember the bolt!”

“Ah, no problem.” Simon followed the other, waving goodbye to her. His hand rested on the edge of the door, closing it behind her as she’d said. Almost as soon as he'd completed that task, his phone complained the apparent lack of attention it had been receiving by vibrating in his pocket. 

 

_You disappeared today, and now Amy has_

_Don’t tell me this is a teen horror movie_

_-Kieren_

 

_I died first, as the most attractive one._

_In reality, I overslept._

_Amy just left here._

_-Simon_

 

_She was at your house?_

_I should have thought of that_

_Except I didn’t think she knew where you lived_

_But okay_

_-Kieren_

 

A pause punctuated the air after that text, before his phone went off again. _  
_

_If she saw your cats, she’ll never stop talking about them,_

_And I’ll get jealous_

_-Kieren_

 

_I didn’t think she did either._

_She saw them._

_Feel free to come meet them._

_-Simon_

 

_Do you always invite students to your house?_

_Teen horror movie_

_-Kieren_

 

_I’m actually the candy man._

_Come on little boy._

_Too creepy?_

_-Simon_

 

_Really too creepy._

_Are you in this week?_

_I’m in all week._

_-Kieren_

_Yeah I should be._

_Sorry, I guess I’m a terrible lecturer._

_Not that you’d know of course._

_-Simon_

 

_Cheeky sod._

_-Kieren_

  
Simon smiled in his phones direction, licking his lips. So tomorrow was the meeting day? Finally. He could almost taste excitement on the tip of his tongue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your encouragement and love, you're all lovely!   
> Sorry for the delay in updating - we've been cats, sleeping all day and shit. Meeting soon!


	7. Tuesday

_[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: Absence]_

_Can’t make it in today. Broke my arm walking out of the shower this morning. I’m such a fragile soul._

_Sent those pictures in with Amy, hope she gives them to you._

_Hope this didn’t sound too sarcastic on the soul part,_

_-Kieren_

 

“Perfect!” Amy’s voice was practically tremulous with excitement as she finished reading the email that Kieren had put to her, on his phone’s smaller screen.

“Perfect? Amy, he doesn’t know what I look like anyway,” Kieren began, interrupted by Amy’s fingers, grip looser than he’d ever known to be before, pinching his cheeks. Chemotherapy had really taken its toll.

“That’s the point, dum dum! He’ll see you at the end, and it’ll be a surprise! And it’s good to finally get you out of your room, I hate to think that you’re stuck there ‘til God knows what time, having panic attacks where I can’t do anything for you,” At Kieren’s responding half shrug, and the guilty expression that she expected to adorn his features, she leant forward and kissed him on the cheek, cupping his other cheek with her shaky fingers. “Don’t look so grim, Kieren Walker, you’ll love this lesson!”

“‘Existence and progressive religion’, God, I’m so excited.” He shot back, with a very deliberate eye roll, and a sort of smile curving on his lips.

“Pull the other one.” She hooked her arm with his as he pushed his phone back into his pocket. Her smile was wide, unfaltering. With an encouraging tug, she pulled him into the empty classroom. Getting there early, to get ‘better seats’, Amy had professed. “He’s a wonderful teacher, and handsome to boot! I surround myself, unintentionally, of course, with handsome, wonderful, rays of sunshine. If you sit next to me on the second row, I’ll even shuffle my notes your way if you start doodling again,”

Kieren gave the back of Amy’s head as she pulled him down the row an appreciative look, that he hadn’t considered before he’d given it, that she couldn’t see it. Already, his brain was working at half the pace.

Philosophy.

He squeezed into what had to be the most uncomfortable seats in his life since primary school, raising an eyebrow.

“How long until the messiah himself shows?” Kieren ducked his hand into his shoulder bag, fetching his smaller sketchbook from it. He might as well do some work.”

Amy snorted out through her nose. “About 5 minutes. He always gets here ten minutes early, but we’re fifteen minutes early, so we can chat with him a little.”

Simon’s problem with time is that it always made him feel later. He could be an hour early to an appointment and still feel rushed, especially when he couldn’t help but watch the ticking of the clock. That was likely why, ten minutes before the lesson, he rushed through the door, clad in a green and red sweater, with half a piece of toast hanging from his lips. It hadn’t even occurred to Simon that he could have simply finished his breakfast at home, and still be in time for his lesson -early even- and he wouldn’t have had to charm one of the caterers into giving him a free piece of toast. Still, his conversations with the caterers were becoming part of his daily routine, a part which he thoroughly enjoyed.

So preoccupied with the concept of his imagined lateness, Simon didn’t even notice the other occupants in the room. One hand worked on setting up his laptop on the screen, while the other dusted the stray cat hairs off of his sweater, and his mouth worked independently on the toast, skillfully manipulating more and more into his mouth and chewing between bites.

Kieren didn’t have to look over at Amy to know her eyebrows had shot up, that her smile had only gotten wider.

Kieren himself, however, had a much different expression. Something quite akin to horror. The lighting was no longer dim, everything was in a blanket of light but the close fitting jumper matched the outline in the memory in his head, and he could remember a face well enough to know the similarities of Simon’s angular face to the face of the man in the dark.

This information resided as dominant over his surprise - relief, even? Where had that come from? - that despite the pictures of the woolly jumpers Amy had shoved his way and the way his head had suggested, Simon was not at all like he’d imagined.

Atop the open sketchbook, three sketchy images of cats lay; each adorned with a puncture mark from being on his board.

Amy put her weight onto her folded arms as she leant forward on the desk. “Simon, up here! Did you get Kieren’s email? He said he couldn’t come today,”

Simon turned towards her. His gaze lingered on her companion momentarily, before moving back to Amy. He’d definitely seen the blonde somewhere before, although he couldn’t exactly place his finger on it. “I haven’t checked yet...but…” Realising that his words were muffled due to the toast still hanging from his mouth, he lifted his hand, pulling the toast out. “Sorry. I’m a mess in the mornings.” He registered what Amy had been saying, lips thinning in disappointment. “That is disappointing. I thought we’d finally meet today.”

Amy threw a glance to Kieren, with the clear intent of directing him towards the enthusiasm in Simon’s voice on the subject of meeting him.

And it did feel good. For a moment, it felt to Kieren like a warmth swelling in his chest, and then he remembered that Simon was the one who’d seen him in his moment of weakness, and had received his text afterwards. He probably knew, then. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Or he’d completely forgotten, and Kieren wouldn’t have to just get up and leave. It was a tempting choice.

Before he could really make a decision, however, Amy rehooked her arm in Kieren’s and leant her head against his shoulder. “It would be disappointing, wouldn’t it? What do you think, Kieren?”

Swallowing whatever had formed in his throat during this time, Kieren raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Why would I miss out on all the joys of philosophy?”

Simon laughed, a bubble appearing in his chest. He didn’t know why he felt so overjoyed at the other being there. “You clearly haven’t been to a lesson if you think there are joys to philosophy.” He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The email wasn’t my idea,” He offered out; blurted, really. He could feel his shoulders relax a little, lips even becoming a small half smile, a little bemused. Maybe Simon really didn’t remember, if he thought this was their first meeting.

“It was mine, of course. Genius,” Amy continued on, a laugh tumbling from her lips. “I knew you two would hit it off! Do I have the best ideas or what?”

“You’re our Queen,” Kieren snorted again, smile broadening.

“But of course!” This time, Amy did her best impression of received pronunciation, waving her hand by rotating it side to side in mimic of the queen. “I have come down to anoint the commoners,”

“Simon,” Kieren interrupted. The name felt odd on his tongue, now that he directed it at the man himself. Jesus, he was so far from what he’d imagined. “I brought those pictures.” His hand paused atop the sketchbook, before picking up the papers and bunching them together, arm outstretched as he held them out for him. “Prophet, Pancake and Disciple. I said I’d sketch them.”

“That’s great.” He smiled, taking the papers from the other. For a moment he considered accidentally brushing his fingers across the other’s, before he frowned, dispelling the temptation and looking at the papers. “Wow. These are really great. You’re talented.”

He was pretty sure his ears had adopted a pink tink, and he considered messing with his hair so that they’d be less apparent. He rolled his shoulders into a shrug, fingers fidling with themselves on top of the desk. “Yeah, well, in comparison to the other artists in my class…” He cleared his throat once again. “Y’know, it’s pretty standard. And cats are pretty easy to draw. Cats and fruit. You should see my picture of my sister, she hates it.”

Amy kept her head against Kieren’s shoulder the entire time he had spoken, having linked their fingers together, squeezing them when he’d mentioned his art. “I think it’s wonderful, and,” She drew out. “I think you should join our next rally.”

Kieren grimaced. “If my mum finds out I’m stirring up trouble somewhere-...you know I can’t join a cult,”

“I suppose people do call groups of people who believe in things strongly cults.” He frowned, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’d prefer to be in a cult that sit by and do nothing.” A small smile lifted the corners of his lips, a pointed expression thrown in Kieren’s direction.

Now, Kieren’s brows furrowed, taking in the other’s expression as it was directed at him. There was no clear rebuttal to that. Especially not when he’d wanted to avoid pissing anyone off today.

It seemed like his mere presence was parasitic to group talks.

Wearing his apparent, no-bullshit expression as he retorted, he cleared his voice very purposefully this time. “So you’re definitely a cult then?”

Amy snorted out on a laugh, giving Kieren’s hand a squeeze again. “Sparks are flying. Good! Debating is good! Maybe we can push him into our corner, Simon.” She smiled as he gaze flickered between them. “Of course we’re a cult! We even give blood to the mental health gods and in return, we get to live life sound of mind and everyone else gets the service they need. Wouldn’t you want that?”

His expression faltered, fingers flexing out of Amy’s grip, chewing his lip now. “Why would I want it? I mean, for other people, yeah,”

“I don’t doubt that Kieren agrees with us, Amy. He just needs pushing I think.” He winked in Kieren’s direction, before his expression fell to one more neutral. “I feel like we’ve met before.”

“Look, cults aren’t my thing and I should...go to the toilet or something,” Kieren felt his stomach return to the pit of his anatomy, as if gravity were pulling him down, unsure of whether or not it came from the wink, or the fear that Simon might just remember him. He even pulled the strap up over his shoulder, even when Amy stopped his hand in motion, and cupped his face with her hands.

“Maybe you’ve seen his handsome face on campus at some point?” Amy reiterated, smile on her lips.

“You’re probably right.” Simon tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in consideration for a moment, before shrugging. “I guess if I did meet him before the...situation wouldn’t have mattered. Regardless of what it was.” He lifted a brow in Kieren’s direction, smiling softly as the image of him beside a lake came to his mind. They had met before then.

For Kieren, his mouth felt moderately dry. Amy had her hand on his shoulder, preventing him from getting up and going. Some relief seeped into his expression for a moment, though it was dampened by the way his chest constricted. Before he could respond, however, Amy punctuated the slowly growing band of silence between them all, just as someone else filtered into the room.

“Looks like it’s time for you to work your magic, Mr Monroe. We’ll sit and watch, and take notes like good students.” As yet another person moved into the room, she lowered her voice, grin apparent on her mouth. “Good luck!”

When she leant back, her brighter expression moved to Kieren and her hand sought his under the desk again. “Thanks for being here.” She whispered.

He threw one last look at Simon, before his attention was re-captured by Amy, and not even his strange, knotted stomach at being here could prevent his own lips adopting up some of the warmth of her smile in repetition. “Wouldn’t miss it,” He managed back.

 

\---

 

[TO: Simon Monroe]   
_[RE: Work]_   
_[Attachment: Exercises.docx]_

_Amy did the exercises from the page we saw in your lecture today. I even did it, you’re welcome!_

_Sorry about earlier._

_And...sorry for not messaging until 2am._

_-Kieren_

_[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: No worries]_

 

Simon yawned, blinking the sleep from his eyes. What was Kieren doing up at this time again? Still, at least he finally had a face to the name.

 

_It was good you got to my lesson this afternoon. And thanks for doing the work._

_Makes my job a lot easier._

_-Simon_

 

It took a whole twenty minutes before Kieren put his fingers to the keys again.

 

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: Stop changing the RE]_

_You figured out the whole lake thing, right?_

_-Kieren_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Stop making it easy to change]_

_Figured it out?_

_I mean, yes, I remember it._

_Don’t worry about it._

_-Simon_

 

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: I don’t control the RE]_

_Right. Don’t get all disappointed that I’m a ‘sufferer’ and I don’t help your cause. Or get all public speaker on me. I just want to put it all behind me, pretend it never happened._

_It’s just...taking longer than I thought._

_Amy wouldn’t stop talking about how magical your lecture was, and how christmassy your jumper is on the way home._

_-Kieren_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Are you sure?]_

_You can’t do that though._

_These are issues that we live through, you can’t just bury your head in the sand._

_It’s fine._

_If you don’t want to talk about it then we won’t talk about it._

_-Simon_

_[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: Is that philosophy?]_

_I can try to sort my own problems out. I want to help, I just don’t want to run up a flagpole and have everyone see the giant ‘he has depression’ marker on me._

_I’ll try, I’ll come to a rally, alright? I just don’t want to be one of those people getting arrested or get caught on the telly spray painting walls and vandalising things. My family would kill me if I got into that again._

_I just don’t want people to realise that I’m as awful as I think I am._

_-Kieren_

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Maybe]_

_I don’t think there’s a massive marker on people with mental illnesses._

_Come over mine this weekend._

_I’ll show you mine if you show me yours._

Simon flushed, bringing a hand up to the bridge of his nose.

 

_I mean mental health wise._

_-Simon_

 

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: Are you always full of it]_

_Did any of that come out the way you wanted it to?_

_I don’t know if that’s a good idea. For one, I’ve been blatantly flirting with you in a whole lot of these emails, and I haven’t spoken to anyone apart from Amy about my...mental health stuff._

_I don’t want a lecture or anything._

_It’s a deal if you get ice cream and I get to paint your cats._

_-Kieren_

 

Kieren faltered before hitting send, ultimately deciding to be brutally honest. Fuck it. Fuck it all, in fact. He could feel it spilling out as if it had all unfurled from a knot in his stomach. If the knowledge of his flirting didn’t put Simon off, and if he wasn’t out to convert him, there was no harm at all. At least, that he could see.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back, letting out a breath. When did this become difficult?

Simon ran his fingers lightly across the keyboard, chewing his lower lip. So he had detected flirting. There was something so amazing about Kieren, even before they’d met, something that made his insides ache.

 

 _[TO: Kieren Walker]_   
_[RE: Yes]_

_It’s probably best if you don’t tell that to the school board._

_While you’re at it, leave out the fact that I flirted back._

_I already have ice cream._

_-Simon_

 

Kieren’s ears adopted that pinkening colour once again, having decided against his better judgement to put the laptop down and go to bed and not have to read Simon’s response.

He breathed out once again, slowly.

 

 _[TO: Simon Monroe]_   
_[RE: I like strawberry]_

_Then I’ll bring some of my tools of the trade and I’ll paint your cats._

_No philosophy._

_See you on the weekend._

_-Kieren_

 

He put his laptop down at that, and covered his mouth with his hand, swallowing back the smile budding on it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fabled meeting! And more to come! 
> 
> The song for today's chapter, Life Support from Rent. <3 
> 
> (And thank you still for your comments, we read them and make weird noises and roll around squealing!)


	8. The Truth

Simon was dreaming.

He knew that he was dreaming because his mother was holding his hand to her lips, like she used to when he had been a child. The touch was sweet, an attempt to be comforting, but Simon felt no comfort in it. Rather than the warmth that he remembered from childhood, the soft, sweet-smelling breath tickling the back of his hand, all he felt was cold. His mother was a corpse beneath his fingertips, skin sallow, sagging on her bones: a suddenly deflated balloon. Instead of a kiss, his mother nibbled, testing, before her once still mouth began biting and her gentle fingers moved, clawing at his skin, tearing chunks in her seemingly insatiable hunger.

When Simon finally woke up, it was to a weight in his chest and a sudden chirping accompanied by a muffled mewl. Eyes still closed, he lifted his hand, rubbing the back of it across his sleep laden eyelids, the skin of his hand tingling from his dream.

Eventually, his eyes opened to the vision of a black cat, and a twitching bird crushing beneath the cats jaws. He frowned, lips moving into a thin line. “Really, Prophet?”

Using Simon’s somewhat groggy but otherwise perfectly recognisable voice as confirmation that he was awake and ready to receive his gift, which Prophet had pulled through the back door cat flap with his tail aloft and swaying lightly with implied pride, he unclenched his jaw so that Simon could properly devour and enjoy the food he’d been brought.

Whether or not the dark coated feline had done this knowing that the bird still had life in it remained imperceivable as it took to the air in its newfound freedom, though it hardly managed to carry itself to the ceiling and instead flew the only distance it could to the set of drawers at the far end of the room, where it continued to panic in a mess of feathers.

Of course, Prophet went to rectify this; his form moved from the bed and instantly found its way to the bottom of the drawers, where it prepared to retrieve Simon’s morning gift.

“Prophet!” Simon frowned, standing up. “Prophet, leave it alone!” He stepped closer to the feline, pressing his hands beneath his stomach and lifting. “I’ll deal with it. You go bug your brother and sister or something.” He pressed the cat’s head to his lips in a brief kiss, moving to the bedroom door and dropping him outside of it. “Thanks for the…gift.”

Prophet immediately attempted to mince back through his legs, letting out a sizable yowl that could have been considered pleading if it hadn't have sounded so annoyed.

Pancake, however, went straight for the door as a knock resounded from it.

“Shit,” Simon cursed, once again lifting Prophet into his arms and exiting his bedroom, the bird still inside. He closed his bedroom door securely, negating the fact that Prophet could open the door with his paw by fully apprehending him. Stepping into the hall and towards the front of his house, he rested Prophet against his hip, his free hand going for the front door handle. 

Kieren was met with this image. A clearly only recently awoken Simon Monroe, whose state of semi-undress confirmed this, arm around a cat as if it were a handbag and hair not at all like the usual tidiness he’d seen throughout the week.

Maybe he hadn’t had to fiddle with his own hair before.

The edges of his lips twitched just a little, an eyebrow arching into his hairline. “Did I come too early?”

God, did Simon look different out of the jumpers, and without the suits. Without his hair combed, with pajama pants dotted a little with cat hair. The intimidation borne of his charm and encouraged by his apparent handsomeness seemed less.

A smile broke Simon's expression, turning sideways to usher the other into his home. “No, it’s fine. Come in. I actually…” His tongue flickered over his lips, wetting them. “You can help me with a thing.”

“That’s honestly the worst pick up line I've ever heard.” He snorted out through his nose, finding his gaze flickering around to take in all that was Simon’s home, in regards to his corridor, and what he could see of the living room from the doorway.

From outside a door further down, Disciple let out a low chirping sound.

“They’re bigger than I thought they were,” His eyebrows remained lifted, even as his attention moved back to Simon, the smile broadening a little. “Mad cat man, right?”

“Most definitely. Here.” He handed Prophet over to the other. “Watch your hands, he gets bitey.” A small laugh tumbled from his lips, moving to return back to his bedroom door. “I just have to catch this thing.”

“So you want me to hold him?” He shifted the cat uncomfortably in his arms until he found he had a secure grip on him as Prophet squirmed, as if he knew exactly what they were talking about and couldn't fathom not being involved.

He followed Simon’s path to the bedroom door, finding his brown eyes lingering on the movement of the other’s shoulder blades, and the way it affected what seemed like a repaired tear in the canvas of his skin, down to the last vertebrae.

He’d really meant scars, then.

Simon nodded, although he didn’t turn around to the other, and instead entered his bedroom. “Prophet brought me a present this morning, so we probably need the vets.” He lifted a jumper from his bedroom floor, tugging it on. “I have no idea how to catch a bird. Luckily, however, it can’t fly.”

“Some guys were throwing bricks at this pigeon in my town centre once. Think it was half run over. Here,” He dropped Prophet to the floor, who went to stand between Simon’s legs as if they were a previously established bird hunting team.

Kieren then shrugged off his leather jacket, to pull off the cotton one beneath it. He held it out over his arms, and hands. He then moved around Simon, catching sight of the injured bird that hunched itself up protectively on the drawers still. 

“I’ll throw it over him, and when he panics, I’ll scoop him up and we can put him in a box and carry him. So, y’know, get ready,” He then continued to approach, having flashed back a look at Simon, carefully, the wounded avian, close enough that he wouldn't miss when he tossed his jumper quickly over it.

As he’d predicted, the lump now covered became a wild flutter that Kieren had to work, carefully and as firmly but gently as possible into the crook of his arm, wrapping the jacket around it properly so as to prevent escape. He put a hand over it, making a ‘shh’ing sound for a moment as it stilled. “Easy,” He threw a look up at his lecturer, clearly pleased, for a reason Kieren couldn’t quite place; likely because he’d managed it as easily as he'd previously estimated. 

“Nice going.” Simon smiled, his usual disarming smile, breathing out. “Would it be okay in a cat carrier, do you think? I have bird seed in the bird feeder outside so I can shove some of that with it.” He nodded, considering for a moment the other, and the bundle in his hands, and moved to lift a cat carrier from the corner of the room where he'd kept it to keep it out of the way, for future cat related emergencies. 

Kieren bent a little at the knees as Simon lifted the carrier, waiting until he’d opened it so that he could, though he gave it a moment’s thought, put the bird in with his entire jacket. Maybe it’d keep it warm, or semi-calm, at least.

He closed the cage door, fastening it. “That’s definitely going to have to go in the wash. Try explaining that to Amy,”

“That’s okay.” Simon’s tongue pressed against his lips, considering the other. The smile remained on his mouth, lifting the cat carrier. “I mean, I can just shove it in my washing machine after the vets. It isn’t a problem.”

 

-

 

Simon’s washing machine wasn’t too unlike the regular type seated in the washing room on campus, making the vague instructions easier to follow.

The room in which his washing machine stayed wasn’t too unlike campus either, though it was unaccompanied by the 50p slots, multiple dryers, empty detergent bottles and the odd stray pair of knickers. Instead, it retained a dusky scent, half masked by a cotton smell. Which, Kieren mused, probably came from the piles of clothing left about.

He probably shouldn't linger about, lest Simon get the impression that he was just here to sift through his washing. 

Which, upon hindsight, it probably still looked that way, as when Kieren re-appeared in the living room, he'd donned a jumper that was a little long at the sleeves and hem but did the job fine in the absence of his jacket and leather overcoat combo.

“Sorry, this probably looks...weird, I guess. I promise I didn’t sniff all of your clothes, I just grabbed one of your jumpers,” He thumbed the hem of the bottom of said jumper, holding it out as he looked over it again. “If I did go through them, I would have picked something less...christmassy. I really didn’t believe Amy when she said you had like... _forty_ old man jumpers.”

“I'll think you'll find that I have fifty-two.” He laughed softly, standing and moving so that he was in front of the other. His hands curled around the hem of the jumper, tugging it down a little over Kieren’s jeans. “This suits you. You should buy some jumpers.”

“Sod off,” He retorted dryly, gently swatting Simon’s hands away, though for a moment, he’d wondered if the other was going to ask him to remove it. This was probably an inappropriate breach of personal space in Simon’s home. 

Suddenly, he felt very aware of what his hands were doing, and that his arms remained concealed. The image of the scar painting an ugly mess between Simon’s shoulder blades resurfaced.

His hands pulled down his sleeves, an awkwardness now apparent in the way he held himself. “Simon Monroe: lecturer, philosopher, preacher, and fashion adviser.”

Simon retracted himself, clearly taking Kieren's sudden change in standing as an indicator of being uncomfortable. He wondered if he was perhaps too close to the other, and that he’ breached some form of personal space between the two of them. His hand lifted, it still tingling from contact, pushing it against the back of his neck, “I’m a jack of all trades, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” And Kieren let the conversation end there, hanging between them for a moment.

He then cleared his throat, breaching the moment’s quiet. “So, the giant scar on your back? Not to push, or make you uncomfortable. If it makes you uncomfortable, just...tell me to fuck off, or something. I just saw it on my way in.”

“Oh.” His smile faded, before it lifted his lips once again, a little more impassive. “Yeah, I guess it’s hard to miss. I was in a car accident.” A tongue pressed against his lips, breathing out. “They had to do some extensive spinal reconstructive...thing. Surgery.”

This time, Kieren’s gaze lingered on him, careful. Careful not to push too much, but also careful not to just take a vague answer. He’d grimaced, imagining for a moment what that could have been like. What recovery was like. He imagined Simon in a beige turtleneck, otherwise head to toe in bandages, surrounded by cats. “What happened?”

“I...that’s kind of a...story.” Simon chewed his lower lip, letting out another deep breath after a moment. “I suppose it'd be okay to tell you. I mean, that’s what you came for, I suppose.” He moved backwards, placing himself onto the sofa. “I used to be a drug addict. Well...you never really _stop_ being a drug addict, but I’ve been clean for a while now.”

“Wait, gimme a sec,” He moved to follow Simon, brow knitted, to one of his chairs, finding himself slumping his weight down in it as gently as he could manage. Yet again, he took up little space, resting his hands on the end of his knees, thumbs rubbing at the hem of the sleeves. “Right, hold on... _what?”_

Simon studied him for a moment, before his gaze averted to look outwards as he spoke. “Well, I got exceedingly high and decided to take the car out. Well...specifically, my da’s car.” His lips thinned, grimacing at the memory. Even the lilt on 'dad'. _Da._ It felt strange to his mouth, working the word out. “I couldn't see the truck. I was too far gone. Everything was just colours at that point.”

Kieren’s grimace could have lasted a full minute before he even turned his gaze down to his hands.

Finally, he looked back to Simon, brows knitted together as he held his gaze. “Why did you even start?”

“At the time I thought, why the hell not.” He shrugged, frowning. “I didn’t understand consequences, I just knew how it made me feel. When I wasn’t high I felt nothing most of the time, and endless darkness other time. Drugs were the only way I could see colours and lights.”

Kieren’s expression remained as quiet as he was, save for the way it slightly resembled a person who’d been punched in the stomach. He cleared his throat. "What were you before you were an addict?" 

Simon genuinely considered his answer. "Before? I wasn't anything." 

Prophet took this moment to worm his way onto the sofa from the nearby window, dropping down from near Simon’s shoulder to stand upon his lap. Kieren breathed out, some of the tension in his shoulders gone.

“He’s probably wondering where that bird got to.” He knitted his hands together for a moment, before pulling them apart, straightening up in the chair. “Look, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. And I’m not going to think of you differently just because you used to be an addict. But if you wanted to problem share, then I’ve really got...nothing. Actually _nothing_ , in comparison.” His fingers now threaded through his hair, quickly returning back to fiddling with each other, before squeezing his own knees. “Jesus Christ, I already sound dumb,”

“You could never sound dumb.” Simon leant forward, pushing a disgruntled cat aside, hands lowering to hold Kieren’s on his knees. “Any problem is still a problem. I really hope that you’ll come to understand that.”

Another snort and Kieren pulled his hands back, out of his loose grip. “You’re, uh...doing it again. The philosophy thing.”

“I’m just telling the truth.” Simon cleared his throat, leaning away from the other now. He was touching him too much.

“ _‘The truth’”,_ ” Kieren adopted a mystical tone, and gestured out with his hands to emphasise this, and also as if he couldn’t keep them still. “Yeah, I get that you’ve had your spiritual awakening. No, really, being clean is literally amazing and it’s great that you’re...y’know, here, now, with your cats and your jumpers and everything but I don’t think that point exists for me to get to.”

And like that, Kieren’s shoulders had slumped again and his fingers rubbed at the jumper, over his arm, self conscious once more. “Some people are just different.”

“People aren’t that different.” He frowned, tilting his head. “Are you really saying that you can’t feel better? That’s...I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit.”

“‘Cause what, you’re definitely better? You’re telling me that you don’t go to sleep waiting to be lucky enough not to wake up?” Kieren’s voice wavered a little, before becoming firm once more, brows furrowed and lips pressed into one, disbelieving thin line. “I’m sorry if this feels like I’m just...not paying attention to how great it is that you’ve mostly recovered. I am, I promise. That's great. Unbelievable! But I’ve done this before and I came to uni hoping that all of that shit would stay at home and it just hasn’t, and I don’t think it will. _Why_ is that bullshit?”

Simon shook his head, before standing. “I get it. I do, Kieren,” His Irish twang softened, not as heavily lacing his tone, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I have days where I don’t want to wake up, it’s true, but there are things that help. Things that can help you. Medication, cognitive behavioral therapy. If my group are listened to these things will be more easily available and everybody will get the help that they deserve. That...you deserve.” 

Kieren’s gaze followed Simon’s progression to standing, even as he made sure Simon heard the exasperated snort that left him barely before the other had finished talking about his group.

“Thanks for the advice, and for telling me your background, even if it was just to help turn me over to whatever it is you guys keep preaching about. I didn’t come here to get converted, or hear the same thing I’ve heard before, or have you be my therapist,” He, too, made to stand now, ignoring the cat now weaving between his legs. “I thought you wanted me here as a friend, not an..initiate or whatever,”

“Kieren no...that’s…” He shook his head, pressing his hand to Kieren’s shoulder, even giving it a re-assuring squeeze. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I mean. I just…” Simon hesitated, smiling slightly in a way that he assumed was comforting. “I’m sorry. I won’t talk about this anymore.”

In response, stomach clenching still, Kieren shrugged off his hand again, though he retained their close space. “And would everyone stop acting like I’m fragile? Jesus, I’m not about to try to off myself again. I don’t need initiating or looked after,”

Already built up. That’s what Kieren was, right now. He wouldn’t be surprised if Amy had let him know everything, and that wasn’t what got him; it was that Simon was both that person who Kieren had eagerly emailed consistently for ages and the Irish man in front of him, whom everyone seemed impressed by, like some kind of mental health preacher. What had felt like building warmth now felt as if Simon was knocking on Kieren’s proverbial door to tell him exactly what he hadn’t already tried, that’d cure him, that he’d overlooked all this time.

“Why are you trying _so_ hard to get me to join your cause?” And Kieren’s hands moved up once more, gesturing out to accentuate his sentences. His stomach remained clenched, as if he’d tied it to a rock and let gravity take it.

“I’m not-,” ‘ _Off himself_ ’. Something in Simon’s stomach tugged, as if he needed to protect Kieren.

He decided not to voice it, since Kieren wouldn’t find it an attractive trait in him. “I’m just right. I want you to see that, but I’m not going to push it,”

Kieren snorted, harder, as part of an irritated sigh now. “We’re not ‘kin’ just because we have the same problem. Illness, whatever you guys call it.”

“I know, I know. Calm down.” He lifted his palms in a sign of defeat, a small nervous laugh escaping his mouth. “It’s fine. Let’s just leave it.”

Something about the ‘calm down’ as an instruction made Kieren’s gut tug again, inspiring only more heat in the light of anger. This time, though, he gave Simon the most deliberate glowering look he could muster and breathed out in one long exhale, fingers clenching and unclenching in his pockets. Maybe he _had_ lost his temper, maybe it wasn’t _exactly_ as it felt, but he wasn’t going to take the chance in making it feel like it was okay if it was.

If Simon thought that Kieren was going to be initiated or...played with for the sake of joining a cause, it wasn’t going to happen.

His hands ran back through his hair again in one frustrated movement, shoulders tense and rounded up. “You can be so fucking great. Your emails - everything. As a friend or...whatever, but this just feels like initiation and if you’re just leading me on to get me to join your cult, it’s not happening,”

“Kieren, I would never...ever…” His hand lifted, holding Kieren’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Lead you on.”

“And _this_ ,” He started once more, though he remained still and made no move away from Simon’s touch, keeping their proximity in favour of using his hand to pull Simon’s from his face, leaving it curled around his wrist. The irritation remained in his voice. “Isn’t leading someone on, then?”

Simon pressed his lips together, allowing the other to keep a grip on his own wrist.

Kieren was his student. It remained at the forefront of his mind as if it was aware that his actions were more than simple guidance, as they probably should be. Still, he’d never felt the warmth as much as he had when he was with him.

Finally, he breathed out through his nose, and settled his gaze upon Kieren. “No. It isn’t.”

This time, Kieren’s eye roll was much shorter, and once he’d done it, he kept the quiet between them for just a moment as he looked over Simon’s features. 

As an artist, for a moment, he took in again all the harsh lines that made up the other’s jawline, and the nasolabial folds - the smile lines. The frown. The softer way they were composed and the way Simon looked back at him in the same Kieren felt he looked at others.

And the same way that Kieren looked at him.

His hands were still firm with that kind of anger that had stayed in him from their argument, going to Simon’s jaw, fingers in the hair at the back of his head when they moved. And his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth went to his mouth and all the air rushed out of his lungs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, that this chapter is so short, and that we didn't respond to your comments! (We'll soon rectify this! We definitely got all mushy reading them, you're so wonderful). Osmosian was in hospital! 
> 
> It's all okay now! Let us know what you think of this chapter, we hope you can forgive us and that you enjoy it!


	9. Hospital

The kiss, of course, shouldn’t have happened. It was probably illegal, or unhealthy to Kieren’s well being, or just generally too frustrating to both of them, but whatever thoughts he had about it were foggy and broken with images of Kieren’s lips and tongue and the feeling of his face in his hands. Generally, the entire thought process made him dizzy, and content. Simon lifted his phone above him, looking up from his bed to the screen. His thumb swiped across the touch screen, flicking through already read messages from Kieren.

The phone vibrated in Simon’s hand, causing his grip to loosen which, in turn, caused the phone to fall, hitting him in the face. “Ow,” He rolled his eyes, before sitting up, reclaiming his phone.

 

_In a bit of a bother! Don’t mean to be a pain in the arse_

_but do you reckon you could get your handsome self down to A &E??_

_Ward A! Stands for arse_

_Will explain when you get here, my signal is shite xxx_

_-Amy_

 

Simon lifted himself immediately from the bed covers, grabbing the nearest shirt and his shoes.

He probably looked a complete mess when he finally got out of the taxi, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. After a palaver with the secretary, who apparently didn’t feel like just telling him the direction of the ward, Simon finally managed to find his way to Amy.

Amy herself was having her own issues, the curtains around her bed only half drawn and with her in her nightdress, shrouded by a woolly jacket. Her arm, however, was waving about above her head in erratic circles, fingers curled around her Blackberry.

When Simon’s face came into view, her lips stretched into one of her usual beaming grins.

“I was wondering when your handsome face would show! Sit down, I had them bring in more chairs for me, since the waiting time here is utter bollocks,” She huffed, bringing her arm down, gently, so as not to further dislodge the IV drip stuck there. “Signal, too.”

The smile lingered, though it looked haggard in comparison to her usual brightness, like a light that had been covered with a sheet. Clearly, more than just the early hours of the morning had to account for her tiredness.

However, the smile only broadened and a warmth spread over her cheeks as she finally noted the flowers in the other’s hands. “You didn’t have to you big softy! I won’t be in here long!” She outstretched her fingers, making deliberate grabby motions.

He smiled, closing their distance. “I wanted to. I don’t know anything about flowers, so I just picked up what looked pretty at the florists.” His hand lifted, pressing the flowers into Amy’s hand, his own steadying hers. “What happened?”

Amy pulled the flowers to her lap, one hand already stroking her fingers over the petals, smile a seemingly permanent feature now. It couldn’t be shaken.

Which couldn’t be said for her hand, which she lifted up for Simon’s viewing.

“You know how it is sometimes. Just had a bit of a dizzy spell, passed out, woke up throwing up and managed to call an ambulance. Go me! Now they’re just waiting for the results from the usual - pee, poo, blood. They have enough of that from me already to construct a new me.” She snorted out in an attempt at a weak laugh, finding Simon’s hand and squeezing it. “Told Phillip to bring me some tea in a flask, and maybe some biscuits. We could have a real party.”

He sat beside her bedside, squeezing her hand back. “How are you feeling?” A frown pressed against his brow.

 

_Amy, Im so sorry, babe, I tried 2 get off work but theres no one 2 cover me._

_I love u, are u ok?_

_If ur not they can just p off I’ll walk out._

_Do u need me? I love u,_

_Phillip_

 

“The usual! Like death.” She hummed, taking a quick glance at her phone as it went off. Maybe her message would actually send this time.

 

_Of course! I’ll be back b4 you’re back_

_but if you are, put the kettle on for me_

_you’re my handsome boy, quit worrying!_

_love you too xxxxx_

_-Amy :)_

 

“As you know,” She continued, putting her phone back down on her lap, next to the flowers. “I don’t have anything better to do on a saturday than stay around in A&E whilst they worry over nothing. It was probably just a chemo side effect.”

 

_Just make sure ur careful ok?_

_i love u._

_xxxxx_

_Phillip_

 

“Are you sure?” He leant closer to her, leaning against his knees, on his elbows, lowering his eyelashes. “I’m glad they’re checking everything. You never know.” His lips pressed together. The last time he was in a hospital it was for his spine after his mother...

An uneasy feeling pressed against his stomach.

And as if Amy had seen it all in his frown, she leant forward and kissed the edge of his mouth, though her own movements were jilted and stiff with some pain that still lingered in her bones.

“Thanks for coming for little old me. I’m really glad you’re here,” She cupped Simon’s cheek with her fingers, pinching a little, as she usually did for Kieren. “I know you’re probably one of those people who don’t like hospitals. I can see it in your face. It’ll be our secret,” She winked, pulled back to lean properly in her chair. “I feel guilty for pulling you and Kieren out for a silly emergency trip to the hospital. I know he probably hates it here too.”

“Oh, is...Kieren here?” He swallowed, heat clinging to his cheeks. “I mean...yeah, of course he would be.” They hadn’t spoken since the kiss.

“He went to find water ten minutes ago and probably got lost. He has the directional sense of a piece of soggy wallpaper,” Her smile softened, shaking her head, before leaning it back and closing her eyes, making a show of grimacing as if she were over-dramatising the pain. “God, I feel like an old lady already.”

“It’s not too far off,” Kieren’s smile as he re-appeared around the curtain faltered only when his gaze came upon Simon, but remained on his lips anyway.

Balanced in each hand was a polystyrene cup of water, both of which he placed down on the side table by effectively reaching over Simon. His shoulders rolled into a shrug. “I got you two, but Simon can have the other one. I had like two bottles of water already today.”

“Good to see you hydrated,” Amy quipped back, miming pinching his cheeks with her good hand. “It’s good to see colour in your cheeks! After this, if you’re both bored, you could come to mine and have a cuppa. I have good biscuits, I promise.”

“That would be good.” Simon nodded. He eyed Kieren speculatively, pressing his lips into a thin, almost worrisome line.

Kieren, on the contrary, maintained his focus on Amy only, dimples apparent at his cheeks where the smile stayed firmly, almost rehearsed. “Gotta get better first, though,”

“And we can get some custard cremes on the go!” She gasped, almost theatrically, before bursting out into short laughter. “But not before the two of you cheer up. You look so bloody solemn!”

“We’ve talked about this before,” Kieren retorted as his thumbs messed with the sleeves of his jacket as they hung over his wrists, lowering his eyelashes. “This is just my face. And I’m smiling, aren’t I?”

“That isn’t a proper smile, Kieren Walker, and you know it.” And Kieren rolled his eyes, and the smile flickered on his lips, and Amy leant forward now to grab his hand with both of hers and squeeze it as firmly as she could manage, as she had done with Simon previously. “I’m going to be fine, dummies! Who’d look after you both if I went?”

“I have a family, you know,” Kieren’s other hand joined hers, if only to rub some warmth into her fingers. The worry remained in permanent, silent lines on his face, even despite the warm curvature of his lips at her reassurance. “That feed me and the like.”

“But they’re not me,” She squeezed his hands once more, before retracting them, hands wrapping around the flowers now. “Look at what Simon brought me! Isn’t he the world’s most handsome knight?”

“Something like that,” He managed back, and a nurse popped her head around the floral curtain.

“Amy Dyer? We’re moving you to the consult ward, and then keeping you in for a few hours to up date your tests, due to the nature of your condition.” The nurse moved to her bedside, hands going to check on the IV drip first and foremost, though her attention flickered back neatly to Amy inbetween.

For a moment, Kieren noted the professionalism of a polite smile and wondered if he could ever match it.

“Your visitors are welcome back in a few hours,” And now that smile was directed at the two of them. Kieren nodded, going to find Amy’s hand to give it another gentle squeeze. She mouthed 'bugger off' at them, with a broad grin.

“We’ll come back for you if you need us. Give us a shout, okay?” He pulled back, just as Amy mimed a kiss at the two of them, before giving them a quick thumbs up.

At that, he took the sign to exit and moved around the curtain, waiting for Simon to follow suit. His hands went into his pockets, eyes seeking out the ward exit sign before he ended up leading them into paediatrics. “Do you know your way out?

“I have honestly absolutely no idea. This place is like bloody Narnia.” He lifted an eyebrow, following Kieren as if he were a sheep and Kieren his shepard. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, shoulders lifting into a noncommittal shrug.

“We’ll just follow the signs randomly until we see the exit, then. How are you getting home?” Kieren chewed his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, gaze still following the signs as his boots scuffled the hospital floor. None were particularly helpful. “Did you taxi here, because I have a couple of quid we could use to get back to campus, seeing as you live pretty close.”

“Yeah. We can do that.” He nodded, licking his lower lip to soften it. “I can go halves on it. I have change. I mean...money.” His hand lifted, pushing back the stray strands of hair that fell onto his forehead.

“Well, I probably owe you from that time you brought me and Amy tea before lesson,” This time, a kind of half smile lifted Kieren’s lips, even if it wasn’t specifically directed at Simon. It quickly fell away, but none the less, for a moment, it had definitely been there.

“No it’s fine. I get paid a lot more that you.” He returned the other’s smile, lifting his hand and placing it on Kieren’s shoulder. “Are we just...not talking about that?”

“The fact that you get paid more than me?” Kieren deflected, quick enough to be a reflex. Now, Simon had drawn his attention away from the signs, though he’d become pretty sure that if they just headed down this corridor, they’d get to the main desk. He almost shrugged Simon’s hand off, but instead chose to just continue to let his gaze drift over signs, and hospital doors and paraphernalia.

“Right.” Simon grimaced, his chest aching slightly, for some inexplicable reason. “You’re right. Let’s just carry on moving.”

“No,” He snapped back, shoulders clearly rounding up as he tensed. He somewhat deflated a moment later, breathing out, stilling in the corridor and stopping their progression out of ward labyrinth. His hands went straight into his jacket pockets, clenching and unclenching. This wasn’t Simon’s fault - it wasn’t his fault that Kieren had a twat complex, evidently, either. “No, you mean the kiss. We don’t have to talk about it, unless you want me to apologise or something. In which case, I’m really sorry I made shit weird,”

“Is that why you think I want to talk about it?” A grin hovered on his lips, a bark of a laugh escaping his mouth. “How can you be so smart, but so stupid?”

“Wow, are you aiming to write that on my final grade?” Kieren threw him a look, brow knitting together afterwards to complete both the nuances of confusion and disbelief flitting across his expression. “That isn’t what you want to talk about?”

“Well...it is. But you shouldn’t apologise. And it’s not weird between us.” He smiled, lifting his hand to stroke Kieren’s hair back.

If Kieren had looked confused before, it had nothing to the way his face scrunched up now. His hands even followed Simon’s, to rectify what he’d done to his hair, shifting his fringe to the side again. Like a nervous habit. There was probably nothing wrong with it anyway.

This time, he remained still.

“You’re really trying to convince me that it’s not weird, now?” He cocked a slim brow upwards, studying Simon’s expression as if he were about to laugh at him.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” He smiled, tilting his head. “Honestly, Kieren, it’s fine.”

“You don’t think I’m some weird student trying to lay you to get a good grade?” Kieren snorted now, wanting for a moment to physically rub away the smile that took up Simon’s lips, that made his stomach clench. “We can just forget I did anything, I promise, I’m not going to just...randomly jump you again,”

“You’re not stupid enough to think that that would work.” He smirked, licking his lips. “I don’t want to forget about anything. I’m...is it okay? Is that okay, if we don’t forget about it?” His hand lifted, tapping each finger on the wall next to him.

“Why do you keep doing that? All the touching...things, and the way you move your mouth,” Kieren’s hypocrisy probably laced his tone, even as the edges of his lips lifted a little after considering Simon’s face for a moment. “Are you genuinely nervous? I kissed you, and you’re nervous?”

“I’m always nervous around you. You make me feel...amazing, and that makes me nervous.” He smiled softly, pressing a thumb to the corner of Kieren’s lips, pushing it along to trace the smile.

Kieren’s gut definitely did something. He wasn’t sure if it was a clench, or if it had surely been replaced by the swelling warmth curling there in its absence.

His following actions were accounted for, then, in that the sickening pull in his stomach and the lightness resting at the tips of his fingers made it harder for him to properly think about whether or not he was reading the signs wrong. He closed that breath’s length between them where he’d found himself in Simon’s orbit and began a kiss that, much like the first, was almost clumsy with implied rush, so as to leave out room for hesitation.

Simon’s hands lifted, both of them cupping the other’s cheeks, pulling the kiss into a tighter ball. A ball much like the state of his stomach. Churning and aching.

But as much as Kieren wanted to linger there with the warmth of Simon’s lips upon his, with their lips parted and with his breath caught delightfully in his throat, he broke apart from him.

This time, though, a lopsided kind of smile stayed on his lips as he pulled back.

“Hospital. Forgot,” He offered up as explanation.

Simon lifted a brow in amusement, hands reaching upwards to gently rub his thumb across the collar of Kieren’s shirt. “Right. We should...maybe, discuss...this.” His fingers spread in a gesturing movement. “At my house?”

Kieren faltered for a second, in that he arched an eyebrow as he met Simon’s gaze. His lips still felt the echo of Simon’s, faintly, like a gentle imprint. “Right, discuss? I’m not, uh…” His eyebrow raised a little higher. “Did that come out like you wanted it to?”

“Oh, God no.” Simon pressed a hand against his smile, cheeks filtering with a blush. “That’s not what I meant at all. I swear I’m not a pervert.”        

If there had been a third person view, Kieren could probably have sworn he would have rolled his eyes at seeing two people smile at each other the way he unconsciously did at that moment. And the very best he could have hoped for was to not become his lecturer’s momentary lapse of sense and brief mistake. Simon was...something else, entirely. Obviously. But he still could have turned around and refused to speak to him. Or told him what a childish, impulsive thing it was to do.

“Alright. Come on then, let’s go discuss...this. Whatever this is,” Kieren quirked a brow upwards, a glimmer of a kind of grin on his lips for a moment as he turned heel, hands in his pockets again, fingers flexing. ‘This’. He probably should have sounded a little bit less pleased. Or excited. Or whatever it was. “I’ll toss in a fiver for the taxi to yours, then,”

He smiled softly, pressing his hand into Kieren’s pocket, fingers curling around the other’s. “I hope it’s okay. I hope...this entire thing is okay.” His tongue pressed against his lips, shrugging. “Anyway, you’re right. Let’s get back.”

Warmth crawled up Kieren’s neck, and he cleared his throat. But squeezed the hand in his pocket and chewed at his lower lip, until the smile dispersed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating! We've had so much to do at university, and dealing with our own illnesses! Thank you guys so much for all your comments and love (and all the fic recs on tumblr, oh my gosh! You're lovely <3)   
> Next chapter coming soon!


	10. Mornings

_Dear Amy Dyer,_

_First I’d like to thank you for showing interest in the ULA. This letter is the first part of a welcome package that you may opt into if you decide that you like what you hear._

_I’d like to begin by explaining what the ULA (or ULGMHA- if you prefer the full acronym) does, and what it can do for you. The Unified Liberation of Governmental Mental Health Association provides a service that other NHS funded mental health cannot provide. Mostly we provide support for everything that our applicants need. Of course, every mental health service says that, but how many fail in such a simple thing? How many people go into the system and are completely forgotten about? Exactly how many people have to take their mental well being into their own hands with various illegal or non-illegal drugs, self-harm or even go so far as taking their own lives?_

_The ULA believe that the government and the NHS are completely failing when it comes to the mental well being of it’s UK citizens, and our non-profit organisation not only tries to help those who have been failed, but also tries to fight against the many failures thrust upon us by government officials and NHS staff. Even so, we’re not just a mental health respite, a political movement, or a hospital; we’re a family. And we’re always here to help, 24/7._

_The ULA have many bases of operation throughout England, Wales and Scotland, and we’re currently looking to widen our bases to include Ireland. Each centre provides respite for those that need it, along with qualified doctors, nurses and psychologists._

_Of course, this sounds too good to be true right? You’re probably wondering how much you’d have to pay to access this service. The answer, of course, is nothing at all. The ULA is funded almost entirely by A. Bradley, who we’ve lovingly named the Prophet due to their constant words or reassurement and guidance in all ULA citizens’ lives._

_If you’re still interested in what the ULA does, feel free to order a no-strings-attached ‘welcome home pack’ by calling 0800293992 or emailing welcome-home@ULA.co.uk._

_Your welcome home pack will include:_

  * _A free mental health assessment from one of our psychologists, which will include six months of free medication if it’s needed. This can be arranged to be a home visit if you have difficulty leaving the house, although we would like to encourage you to come to one of our centres to meet our citizens and to receive a tour of the facilities._

  * _A two-month stay in one of our facilities if you think that you need it._

  * _Unlimited addiction-fighting workshops._

  * _A day care-worker and a night care-worker who you will be able to ring whenever you just need to talk to somebody._




_You can extend your two-month stay in the facility by attending just one mental-health reform protest a month. The more people we have, the sooner we can change the way that mental health is handled within the NHS._

_Please call the number above if you need any more information, and we hope to meet you in the future._

_Regards,_

_John Seer,_

_the first disciple and official secretary of the ULA._

 

The sheer stubborn determination with which Amy’s fingers dug into the letter as she scanned over its contents left small imprints at its corners. Regardless, she shook anyway, but not so badly that she couldn’t read the fine print.

She was immediately struck that, despite her name, the welcome letter wasn’t personally written for her - that hundreds of others had it. But that didn’t matter, because it was hers. She wrapped her towel gown further around herself, once she’d folded the letter back up and shoved it into the kitchen drawer, finding her mobile. In the adjacent room to the hallway from the kitchen, she heard Phillip stirring, evident by an alarm sounding, a following crash and a resounding, half muffled groan of a ‘ _shitting bollocks_ ,’.

A grin spread over her lips, directed down at her phone as she walked back through to the hallway.

 

_Guess who finally got their ULA letter?_

_Go on and guess! xx_

_Amy_

 

Simon lifted his phone from where it usually sat on his bedroom floor after being thrown there whilst he had fallen into bed just two hours before. He squinted at the light on its surface, before smiling softly.

 

_I’d guess Amy!_

_Congratulations_

_xx_

_-Simon_

 

She practically glided into the bathroom, having checked on Phillip, who had predictably fallen back asleep, the alarm clock left to the place it had bounced to. She’d wake him up after a shower, if she didn’t fall back into bed herself with her fatigue riddled bones aching.

 

_Ordering my welcome home pack later online_

_‘The Prophet’ oo propa fancy like_

_have you met Him? give me the gossip_

_also I didn’t expect you to be awake, honestly_

_you're as bad as kieren sometimes! xx_

_Amy_

 

Simon smiled, licking his dry lips, and turning over in his bed. His hand lifted, pushing the blonde locks from his bed mate’s forehead.

 

_Well, Kieren sleeps a lot more than me, actually._

_I was up marking your barely legible coursework all night!_

_You know putting hearts in the margins doesn’t give you extra marks, right?_

_xx_

_-Simon_

 

Kieren mumbled something incoherent, clearly groggy, risen to some semblance of consciousness by Simon’s touch. His eyelids fluttered, squinting, before groaning out a just audible ‘fuck off, it can’t seriously be morning’ into Simon’s cushion.

 

_It gives me extra marks with you, i’m sure xxxx ;)_

_at least it’s not dull!_

_don’t worry, i’ll be taking my adorable handwriting to the modern age_

_got a new laptop!_

_up for a visit some time soon? phillip is at work all day_

_god i’m going to be bored_

_xxx_

_Amy_

 

A soft laugh fell from Simon’s lips, them lifting into a small smile. “It's definitely morning. It’s always morning, somehow.”

 

_I’m glad you got a laptop!_

_Maybe I’ll actually be able to read your bloody work now._

_Uhm, maybe later?_

_I’m still pretty tired._

_-Simon_

 

_i’ll nap my socks off when Phillip leaves_

_then pop to the cornershop, grab some digestives_

_bring you the letter?_

_Amy xx_

 

Another grunting sound from Kieren, before his eyes actually became half lidded, despite the semi darkness Simon’s room retained still. Blinds were a godsend.                                                             

After a moment, his brow knitted together, looking to Simon’s hands. His lips stretched into a yawn, attempted to talk through it. “Mmm...Amy?”

Simon nodded, pressing his hand against Kieren’s neck. “I think she’s coming over later, maybe you should make yourself scarce?” He shrugged. “I don’t know if you want to tell her, or whatever.”

To which, Kieren snorted, eyes fluttering shut once again, relaxing against Simon’s hand. “Like we’re some illicit couple, stealing away in the dead of night. Civil blood makes civil hands unclean,”

“Very funny. Funny twat.” Simon endeavored to gently poke the other in his ribs, rolling his eyes. “She, uh,” He cleared his throat, sitting up. “She got a letter from the ULA.”

Kieren’s face scrunched up into a grimace. He rolled onto his back, pulling down his shirt where it had hitched up over his stomach, expression still showing his nose wrinkled up in distaste.

“The...united...unified, lanky arses?” He chewed his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, watching Simon move. “The united loony association? She wants to be a part of that? A dodgy back alley mental health service?”

Simon rolled his eyes once again, but in a more exasperated way than before. “They’re not dodgy. I’m sure they could help you if you just asked them to.”

“Yeah, with their stolen pharmaceuticals and ‘feel good’ therapy. Whilst rallying the actual services trying to keep up with the amount of people that are actually mentally ill instead of just...helping them take on the numbers.” Kieren’s eyebrows were definitely furrowed now, following Simon’s pattern in sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched the sleep borne ache out of it. “I can’t even drag myself to a real doctor, let alone a pretend...prophet, whatever it is.” Kieren faltered, letting out a breath, shoulders slumping. “Sorry. She got a letter, then?”

“I get it. You don’t agree with them, but maybe you shouldn't be so blind to their cause.” He frowned, before it fell away, smiling softly, pressing his lips against Kieren’s forehead. “She did. I’ll text her to bring it over and you should give it a read.”

Kieren, however, pulled back as if the kiss to his forehead had sent him backwards a few inches. Where his expression had previously relaxed, now his lips adopted a kind of scowl. “Come on. Simon, really?”

“Really. Just give it a read for me.” Simon's lips pressed into a thin line.

A pause hung between them for a moment.

Finally, having realised that giving Simon that look for a prolonged amount of time wasn’t going to dissuade him, Kieren’s eyelashes fluttered and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll read it, just...don’t get your hopes up,” He leant forward where he sat, bringing his hands through his hair so that it settled as if it were neat. “Amy’s going to think something dodgy went down if she finds me in bed with you,” The edges of his lips twitched, now.

“She is.” He laughed softly, stretching his arms out. “Well, nothing happened. I wouldn’t defile you like that.” A small smile curled on the left corner of his lips. “Not yet anyway.”

Kieren worried, for a second, that he might tangle in the blankets and trip in his endeavour to get out of the bed.

The tips of his ears had definitely gone pink, though.

His brain grappled with a response that wasn’t a curt choking sound, or anything that’d sound like his insecurities peaking through over appearing like an hormonal teenager who’d let that comment shoot straight to his gut.

Instead, he exhaled a snort from his nose, throwing a bemused, if not a little sheepish, grin back at him as he managed to peel himself from the sheets. “‘Defile me’, right. You’re daft. All that means is you take your tongue out of my mouth and put it somewhere else.”

A light heat pressed against Simon’s cheeks, lips pressing into a thin line. “Sorry. I...uhh…” His tongue touched the tip of his mouth, before chewing on his lower lip. “Defile was a joke.”

“Yeah,” Kieren threw back, the curvature of his lips lingering, without looking back to see if his comment had made Simon awkward, of if he’d simply won whatever sexual implication battle he’d assumed they were having. He made to grab for his jeans, which he’d folded somewhat awkwardly and put on Simon’s dresser, dipping his legs into them one at a time and unceremoniously pulling them to a halt at his hips, zipping them up.

However, he sat back down, legs still seated to the side of the bed, rolling his sleeves down from where they’d bunched up at his elbows, throwing another half smile in Simon’s direction.

Here, Simon adopted a look much different from both his more relaxed at-home attire, and his rally outfit. Here, he was neither an activist (where Kieren thought his words were all rehearsed verbatim off some sort of crusty ULA sheet) nor a pale Irish man with three cats and a past drug addiction. He simply existed as Simon, who sometimes didn’t have the right answer or the firmness to his voice that meant he wasn’t nervous in the slightest.

His fringe, having resisted being smoothed out by fingers as Kieren’s had, lay against his forehead and his features remained softer, with more colour.

Kieren, by impulse, leant forward and pressed a small kiss to the uneven smile on the other’s lips.

Simon smiled into the kiss, hand lifting to touch Kieren’s chin softly. His thumb stroked at the small dip in his chin line. Lowering his hands, he pressed them against Kieren’s shoulders, deepening the kiss.

Kieren’s fingers, however, went to Simon’s wrists, thumb rubbing short, brisk circles there.

Between them, a loud buzzing sounded, and Kieren pulled back with one stiff jolted movement, an eyebrow quirked upwards. “Amy, again?”

“Probably. Although I do have other friends, you know.” He flashed the other a grin, before lifting his mobile phone from the covers surrounding him.

 

_There in 10! skipped the nap, got a taxi instead_

_got biscuits from wilkos and a bag of cat treats_

_wasn’t sure if they were allowed nip_

_if you know what i mean_

_:) xxx_

_-Amy_

 

Kieren snorted. “That text you as often as we do?”

“Yeah, uhm…” He frowned, before lifting himself from his bed. “We should probably get ready for Amy incoming.”

“My jeans are on,” The blonde offered, shoulders rolling into a shrug, brown eyes following Simon’s movement, though he remained seated. Kieren rolled his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “I want to tell her.”

“Then tell her.” He smiled, lowering his head to press his lips against the corners of Kieren’s mouth, who in turn, leant his head up to accommodate it, and follow just a little as Simon pulled away.  “It makes no difference to me.”

Another pause, with Kieren leaning back against Simon’s headboard (which barely held itself upright these days). A thin frown took up his lips. “What if it upsets her? I mean, I’m pretty sure it won’t. She’s...wonderful, I get that she wouldn’t care what I...we did if it made us happy, but she’s got so much shit on her plate...just in case, you know?”

Simon lifted a brow, pushing his hair back from his eyes. “Then don’t tell her them.” He laughed, pushing Kieren’s shoulder playfully. “You’re over thinking it.”

“No,” He threw Simon the sharpest eye roll he could muster as he moved with the shove, shifting to kneel on the irish man’s duvet covers shortly afterwards. “No, I’m not. Shove me again, I’ll deck you.” The frown eased a little a small grin, that echoed off into his brown eyes. His hands lifted, gesturing with his palms flat, facing Simon, ready to grab him if he tried at another shove again. “I don’t want her to feel like a third wheel.”

“Deck me? I wish that English people would just learn English.” He smirked, capturing Kieren’s hand in his own, and lifting it up to his lips. “Then don’t tell her, if you think that that’s for the best.”

“I haven’t told anyone that I have a boyfriend yet, and the first should definitely be her.” He turned his hand over, to allow Simon further access to his wrist, where he usually trailed small kisses, without trespassing too far towards where Kieren’s sleeves ended. This time, however, the loose material bunched up at his elbow, and with a more relaxed awareness of it where Simon was concerned, Kieren let it stay there.

Simon’s eyes took in the angry scar that could be seen across a blue vein. He breathed out softly against it, his stomach churning at the sight of it. His head lowered, touching his lips against the marking tenderly.

And Kieren faltered in whatever he was going to say next, wrist jolting a little as he instinctively went to recoil, before he exhaled and his muscles relaxed as if he’d deflated.

Then he decided not to bring it up, if Simon wasn’t going to. But an apprehensive, though definitely warm feeling spread through the pit of his gut.

“For a rally leader, you give some wank advice, Simon.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll tell her.”

“Well matters of the heart aren’t exactly my forte. I’m more like a ‘fight the political agenda’ type of agony aunt.” A smirk lifted his lips, before he stood, stretching his legs from their sleep-`induced ache, leaving Kieren to ghost his fingers over the place Simon’s lips had previously occupied.

“Is that job high in demand?” Kieren’s smile, now, was softer.

Another buzz, and then from the corridor, muffled by two layers of door, an almost musically timed knock sounded.

“Right, _shit_. Shit.” He pushed himself from the lingering warmth of Simon’s bed, straightening out his shirt, pressing his fingers once again into his fringe, pushing it to the side. “Right, Simon. How do I look?”

“Amazing as always.” He smiled, pulling a jumper over his head. “You answer it. Pancake will want some food.”

Pancake, as if waiting beyond the door all night, minced straight through Kieren’s legs as he pulled the bedroom door open and passed through it, into the hallway. She immediately made for Simon’s legs, which had clearly lost some of her scent in the night and needed to be reclaimed.

Simon, plus cats, was definitely what Amy expected to see when the front door swung open.

Not Kieren, running his fingers through his fringe for the upteenth time. Not that the surprise wasn’t pleasant - Amy’s startled frown instantly shifted to make way for a grin that held every ounce of warmth she could muster.

“Kieren Walker, what on earth are you doing in Mr. Monroe’s humble boudoir?” And Kieren hardly ever had to force a grin when her thumb and forefingers went straight to the corners of his mouth, and cheeks, and pinched softly, as she made a habit to do. “Is he on a recruiting bender?”

“He’s some kind of bender,” Came Kieren’s reply, straight off his tongue without thought, and the grin flickered a little. Amy hooked her arm through his and guided him, as if he needed help, through to the living room.

“Cheeky sod, as usual,”

“I try really hard.” And now Kieren’s smile was less apprehensive, a lot more comfortable. Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult telling her.

“Do you, honestly? Oh, Pancake!” Amy ducked down as the familiar flat faced cat waddled into the kitchen, scooping her into a wriggling hug. “My beautiful cat, oh, did you miss me?”

Simon smiled, lifting himself from emptying the tuna can onto Pancake’s plate and the other two cat bowls. Disciple pushed himself down from his sleeping position near the window to eat. “Hello, Amy.”

Amy’s fingers tickled under Pancake’s chin. “Hello, other love of my life! Both of my boys in the same place, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kieren cleared his throat. Whatever answer resting in his mouth melted away as he slumped down into the throw blanket over Simon’s sofa. “New wig?”

She quirked an eyebrow upwards, smile resolute on her lips. “Yeah, bloody itchy thing. Might just lose it and go bald through the streets. I just didn’t want those awkward, _oh gosh I’m so sorry, how terminal is it_ , questions whenever I’m in Tesco,” She jiggled her arm, the plastic bag resting there jiggling with it. “Got some jaffa cakes!”

“Tesco is by far the noisiest store.” He smiled, pulling a packet of jaffa cakes from the bag. “They always ask me where I’m from. Like it isn’t obvious.”

“The mystical Irish land of jumpers. Obviously. Idiots. They’re probably trying to chat your handsome self up,” Amy pressed a kiss to Pancake’s head, even as the cat protested with a wriggle and an audible chirping sound. “Brought the ULA letter too. Figured that you probably can’t talk about the ‘prophet’,”

“Is that really what he calls himself, or what everyone else calls him?” Kieren pulled a face.

“What we call him, dipstick,” She gave him nothing less than a jesting eye roll, and a warm smile. “Just read a paragraph. It’s helpful to people like us,”

“People like us,” Kieren echoed, expression still set in a grimace. Amy let Pancake escape her grip of love and seated herself heavily by Kieren’s side, pulling the letter out of the tesco bag, nudging him with an elbow.

“Give it a read, and tell me what you’re doing here, up early and dressed before me.” And now her attention drifted back to Simon. “And you, mister. I haven’t seen you in a whole week,”

“I’ve been busy, sorry.” He smiled slightly, moving slightly between his feet as if he were uncomfortable talking about the Prophet. “Kieren already promised me that he’d read it. So I’m going to hold him to that.”

Kieren, perfectly on time with the conversation, cleared his throat once more.

God, he felt awkward. Like he was taking up too much space.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll give it a go, I just need to…” He began, fingers drumming on his knees, gaze flickering from Simon to Amy, and then to his unstill hands. “Amy, I’ve got to tell you something, I just...want you to know,”

“Do you have cancer? Because honestly, you can’t just take my thunder like that.” She quirked up an eyebrow once more, pressing her own hand over his to still his movements, calming them.

Under that effect, Kieren breathed out a gentle laugh, shaking his head. “No, no, God no, Amy, I’m...dating someone.”

Amy grinned. “Does this mean I have to stop pursuing Tesco’s knickers and boxers section for suitors?”

“Yeah, probably,” And she rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand at his laughter, even when he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, it’s…it happened a little while after that time you were in the emergency centre, a month or so back.”

“And when are you going to introduce me to your partner?” She adopted a kind of southern drawl at the word ‘partner’, and Kieren silently cursed her ability to make him laugh inappropriately.

“He’s, y’know,” Another awkward throat clear, and Kieren shifted. He leant back in the chair, pressing his lips together. “Here,” He gestured, with his head, to Simon, fingers pressing to the back of his neck, toying a little with the strands of hair there. “You’ve already met,”

Pancake yeowled loudly, head lifted up from her plate where she’d made a circle in her food, of what she’d already eaten.

Simon lifted his palm, waving at Amy in an awkward like motion. His head lowered, looking to Pancake who was the source of noise. “You’re so dumb, princess.” He stooped down, shaking the food on the plate and pushing it back into the middle of the plate.

For another moment, there was a kind of pause.

Amy’s brow furrowed, studying Simon for a moment, attention circling back to Kieren. “You’re dating?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I was...here this morning,” He lowered his hand, lips parting to continue, possibly forming up some kind of apology.

Amy’s gasp was almost theatrical. “How in the bloody hell did you keep that from me?” She reached out to link up his arm again, pulling him into her side, grasping his hand. “Stop looking so worried, God almighty. You know I don’t care who you date, and if you two get along, so more the better. But honestly, you should have told me.” Her grin faltered into a kind of frown. “We missed all sorts of double dates. And I expect you to trust me.”

“I do, of course I do,” Kieren felt his chest constrict, as it always did when he experienced undeserved and unconditional love. As if he’d somehow stolen it. “Christ, Amy, I trust you more than anyone, I just didn’t want you to feel like some kind of third wheel with everything else on your plate.”

“I’ll let you know what I can and can’t handle,” She snorted, leaning in to rest her head on his shoulder. “Tell me the details, I don’t care if Simon’s right there. Is he a good kisser?”  

“I am an amazing kisser, of course.” He smiled, placing his hand on Pancake’s head, scratching between her ears, whilst she ate.

“He’s alright,” Kieren adopted a half smile, the tips of his ears pinkening for the second time that day. “Give me that letter, and ask Simon for all the details of our love life whilst I read it,”

“Deal.”

Amy pressed said ULA letter into Kieren’s palms, moving her weight off him (not before giving him a peck on the cheek) to rejoin Simon in his kitchen.

Kieren’s gaze flickered over the ULA logo, and felt uneasy once again.

 

-

 

Angela smiled softly at the elderly woman, before flicking the switch on the morphine drip beside the hospital bed. No doubt the patient would die tonight, but at least she’d be comfortable. Her hand lowered, pressing it against the woman’s brow softly. “Enjoy your rest, ma’am.”

The ER ward was quiet, which was unusual, but allowed the doctor’s attention to drift to the loudest woman in the waiting room. She was crying, and clearly in a large amount of pain. The doctor dealing with her smiled softly, before pulling away with a colleague. Angela was close enough to overhear the conversation between the two of them.

“History of depression. Complaints of perceived pain in her abdomen.” Angela’s stomach churned in a wave of anger.

Later that night, she pressed submit, and waited for the words upon her laptop screen to submit. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We realised that there's a lot of british slang in this (especially northern, and we're sorry!) so for translation, Tesco is like our Walmart, and dipstick is an affectionate kind of 'idiot'. Jaffa cakes are like...cake biscuits or some shit, we're sorry, they don't come with an absolute definition! 
> 
> Also, hurrah, Prophet entrance! Dark times on the horizon, folks, we have some wank planned. Enjoy the happiness so far! 
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments and posts and you're all so wonderful bloody hell ahhh <3
> 
> Also: The ULA blog DOES exist, for anyone interested, and as Osmosian is bored with her time, may get updated secretly.  
> http://unifiedliberationassociation.tumblr.com/


	11. Medication

“We’ll start you on 10mg, and gradually move you up to 20mg after two weeks. The referral takes a little while, but if you have any problems or persisting side effects in that time, check yourself in with another appointment.”

Kieren’s hands were cold. His fingers curled around each other and tapped. They fidgeted but made no attempt to seek more warmth bar from when he pressed them against his lips and nodded along, wordlessly.

Not that Dr Thames was even looking at him.

His fingers clicked against the computer keys and a machine whirred up his prescription - Kieren had been through these motions before. As expected, his past history of potential towards unplanned hospital visits and suicidal intent was pulled up as soon as he’d finished ticking the small boxes on the piece of paper. Again, the depression PHQ form wasn't unfamiliar either.

He wanted to get out and walk.

He didn't.

Later, when he stood in line at the pharmacy, he finally felt the knot in his stomach unfurl a little.

Meds would help. Eventually, therapy might help. This was a good step.

He breathed out and passed the folded up paper over the desk, and offered the woman in blue an attempt at a smile when she mentioned how god awful the weather was getting lately, and his fingers shoved into his jacket pockets and thumbed the edge of his phone.

-

Two days had passed and Kieren had spent it either sketching idly in dry lines onto paper, or pressing his face into his pillow as if it could lessen the incredibly icepick headache that decided to come upon him randomly.

That, or just lying in the dark. Occasionally, he’d go to text someone, chew his lip, and resort to playing a bubble pop game on his mobile instead.

By Wednesday evening, he had a score of _22540_.

His thumb rolled over the screen on his contacts, and hesitated on Simon’s name, and then Amy’s, before settling elsewhere. He one handed, and pretty awkwardly, texted out the message.

 

_How’s my little sister doing,_

_taken over college yet?_

_let me know when you’re free for a weekend and tired of being billy no mates_

_you can come and visit me_

_-Kieren_

 

Jem had spent the last few hours in her local supermarket. That was the unfortunate thing about staying home whilst attending college; being close to this place. And whilst she was away, just knowing that it was there pushed waves of anxiety through her veins.

As her mobile phone vibrated in her pocket, she pushed her arms around herself as if being confronted by a blow, only for it to never come, although she couldn’t say the same when thinking back three years before.

She threw a glance around her in small, curt movements, before pulling her mobile out, ignoring the shaking in her hands.

 

_Hey bro!_

_I’m just in the supermarket._

_I can come this weekend!_

_-Jem_

Kieren tapped his fingers against his wrist for a moment, frown so deep set it created dimples at his cheeks.

 

_Not sure how much fun I’ll be_

_On citalopram again_

_first week’s a living hell, remember?_

_what are you doing in the supermarket? does mum know?_

_-Kieren_

_No, it’s not important or anything._

_It’s fine._

_I’m fine._

_And you’ll be fine._

_How are things going otherwise?_

_-Jem_

 

_Uh, other than actually seeing a doctor?_

_well, Amy’s doing okay, ish_

_I have a boyfriend_

_I’m pretty up to date with work, sort of_

_so great, I guess?_

_I’ll meet you at the train station this weekend_

_-Kieren_

 

_Wait, wait hold up!_

_You have a boyfriend?_

_When did this even happen?_

_-Jem_

 

A small smile flickered on his lips for a moment, rolling onto his back and holding the phone above his head.

 

_Classified information, no pain in the arse little sisters allowed_

_you can meet him this weekend_

_-Kieren_

 

_How dare you?_

 

Jem smiled, lips pressing into a thin line.

 

_You should tell your little sister everything, you dick!_

_-Jem_

 

_I’ll tell Simon to brace himself._

_Get out of the shop and go home, Jem_

_\- Kieren_

 

He paused, thinking about it for a second as his laptop charger light glowed a dim green across from him.

 

_Could skype later?_

_-Kieren_

_Simon??_

_Why does that sound familiar._

_I just need to be here for a little longer_

_I need to_

_We can skype if you want xxx_

_-Jem_

 

_He’s the crazy cat lecturer that I mentioned ages ago._

_Don’t mention that I mentioned him, christ_

_You want me to call now?_

_Don’t put yourself through it, definitely not on your own_

_-Kieren_

 

_I won’t! I can be discrete!_

_Leave it Kier, I’ll be fine._

_I’ll talk to you later;_

_I’m gonna pig out on marshmallows_

_-Jem_

Kieren breathed out one slow breath from his nostrils, backtracking out from Jem’s message log now. He made to send out a mass text. It got as far as Amy and Simon. Like there was anyone else he could fathom knowing.

 

_Went to the doctors. Got meds, two days ago._

_Do you have any pictures of something funny?_

_Love,_

_-Kieren_

 

_You said ‘love’ you big dork xx love you too!_

_I have a picture of Phillip in a halloween onesie?_

_thinking of getting you and Simon one for christmas_

_yes / yes?_

_-Amy xx_

 

_Nice going._

_What meds are you on?_

_They can really mess you up sometimes, but they’ll get better eventually._

_I have a couple of photos of my cats in various outfits._

_Are we doing love now?_

_-Simon_

 

Kieren snorted. Of course they both texted back, almost instantly.

 

_Don’t you guys have anything better to do than text me?_

_-Kieren_

He addressed Amy’s message first, and then Simon’s, a lot more carefully.

 

_does Phil know you’re trying to send me intimate photos of him?_

_I’ll wear it, go on_

_-Kieren xx_

 

_Citalopram. 10, then 20_

_thanks for your words of wisdom, medicine man_

_of course you do, you dork_

_It’s just...’love’, like a word, does that make you uncomfortable?_

_I can stop!_

_Love,_

_Kieren_

 

Simon laughed softly at the message, before rubbing a thumb and forefinger across his brow.

 

_No, no, it’s fine._

_Love is fine._

_Whatever is fine._

_I find it abusive that you’d call me a dork._

_Very rude._

_-Simon_

_Love, Kieren,_

_Rude, Simon. That’s how we should end letters from now on._

_My sister is coming up this weekend._

_Fancy meeting her?_

_Love,_

_Kieren_

 

_Rude with a full stop, thank you very much._

_And, you’d be okay with that?_

_Well sure!_

_I’d love to._

_Love,_

_Simon_

 

Kieren wet his lips with his tongue, them working into another wry smile as he messaged back. Still no message from Amy. Then again, she could have gone to a lecture.

 

_Why aren’t you teaching right now, it’s like 12pm?_

_Texting your boyfriend during class is a national offence_

_I’ll tell Jem you’re up for it_

_-Kieren_

_Everybody is doing their essay._

_Why are you all up in my face?_

_Love,_

_Simon._

_There’s an essay? You set those?_

_You’re still writing love_

_Love_

_Kieren_

 

_I still feel the same way, so I’m not going to say anything different._

_If that makes sense._

_I set essays all the time_

_If you came to class you’d probably find out._

_Love,_

_-Simon._

 

_You teach?_

_I might pick up your class for extra credit._

_I guess it makes sense. Sort of?_

_Love,_

_-Kieren_

 

Kieren scanned over Simon’s message for a second time before he sent, brow knitted together in a pensive look as he took it in. His stomach clenched. A small smirk took up his lips.

 

_So_

_What are you wearing?_

_-Kieren_

 

_Really?_

_I’m wearing a green and grey stripy jumper and black jeans._

_And a lot of cat hair._

_-Simon_

 

_It was a joke, but since you answered,_

_I’m wearing black knickers._

_No, but really I’m still in my pajamas_

_which is just my shirt and boxers_

_let me know about the essay, I’ll write it when I can get out of bed again_

_-Kieren_

_Now I can’t stop thinking about you in knickers._

_Don’t worrry about the work._

_It’ll happen when it happens._

_-Simon_

 

A kind of laugh tumbled from Kieren’s lips, and he almost relished the moment’s break from silence on his part. He rubbed his hand over his forehead, and down his face, where an inflection of colour bloomed.

 

_You don’t have to go all mystical on me_

_I WANT to do it_

_I don’t have any. I’ll drop Amy a line about it, though._

_I’ll send you a picture_

_-Kieren_

 

_Good. I’m glad._

 

Simon breathed out, pushing the phone screen against his lips and kissing it in a moment of surprise affection. Afterwards, he looked around sheepishly, embarrassed.

 

_Do you want to go out to dinner?_

_I miss you._

_-Clyde xx_

 

_In public?_

_Yeah_

_Yeah, sure_

_I like that you put kisses after Clyde. Really, Simon?_

_-Bonnie_

Kieren paused for a moment, reading over his words as his predictive text corrected it. His eyes lingering on Bonnie, smiling briskly at the remembered inside joke, but then faltering at the context.

 

_You remember when you said you wouldn’t have guessed that I’d prefer to be Bonnie,_

_was that a sex joke?_

_because I completely missed that_

_-Bonnie_

Simon smiled softly, a laugh falling from his lips.

 

_It was a sex joke. Was it an accurate joke?_

_-Clyde_

 

His reply really took a moment or two, and a moment where his hand dragged over his face, rubbing at his cheek, where a burning flush started to form. He snorted.

 

_Not sure. In my imagination, yeah._

_I’ll get back to you._

_-Bonnie_

 

_Well I suppose it’s important._

_I don’t know._

_Is it relevant?_

_-Clyde_

 

Simon flushed, clearing his throat.

 

_Define relevant?_

_-Bonnie_

Meanwhile, a wry smirk painted Kieren’s lips, hand lowering from where it had rubbed at his cheek to ghost over his stomach, idly tracing his own skin. This was a degree better than simply lying in bed, miserable, at least.

 

_Well, I’m sure that you know what I mean._

 

Simon pressed his lips into a thin line, pressing his hand across his face. His flush deepened to a bright pink, highlighting his cheek-bones.

 

_I’m sorry. Do I sound as awful as I think I do?_

_-Clyde_

 

_No, christ, Simon, it’s fine!_

_You’re not seducing me against my will,_

_About being relevant, yeah, guess it is_

_-Probably Bonnie_

 

_I’m not sure that people can be seduced against their will, in general._

_And good._

_I’ll look forward to...finding out? I guess._

_-Definitely Clyde_

_Don’t sound too enthusiastic, Simon_

_-Bonnie_

Despite the sarcastic implications of his reply, Kieren noted the way Simon’s response created that warm prickling at his skin, to his gut. His fingers played with the small, downy thatch of hair trailing downwards from his navel.

 

Simon chewed his lower lip, closing his eyes momentarily. Maybe he shouldn’t be this flirty with a student, although he’s...his boyfriend. The thought inspired a kind of crawling warmth in his chest, constricting there.

 

_Sorry! Sorry about that._

_-Simon_

 

_I definitely want to find out._

_Is that okay?_

_-Kieren_

It was almost a weird mimic of their earlier conversations; this time, with Kieren prodding and encouraging, instead of Simon, where Simon had made sure Kieren knew it was okay to touch and talk and explore, Kieren usually would have been reluctant to bring anything up. The least he could do was return the favour. Not that he wasn’t eager to.

 

_Is it weird that I’ve never sucked someone off?_

_-Kieren_

 

Simon paused, clearing his throat once more.

 

_I don’t think that that’s a prerequisite._

_-Simon_

_It isn’t?_

_-Kieren_

_I don’t think so. I’m not too bothered about it._

_-Simon_

_I want to._

_-Kieren_

 

He wasn’t sure if Simon was pulling back from his pushing. Maybe it was too early in the day. Maybe Kieren was starting to feel awkwardness creeping up his neck, despite his attempt at swallowing it back. He was definitely overthinking this.

 

Simon smiled

 

_Then do it. I mean, eventually we’ll be ready for that sort of thing._

_-Simon_

 

_Just making sure you’re okay with it,_

_and sort of flirting. If you’re okay with that,_

_-Kieren_

 

He brought his hand up, away from his stomach, to rub at his neck, now. Soothing, idle motions, over the blush there. Yeah, he was definitely overthinking it.

 

The Irish male ran his teeth softly against his lower lip in thought. His stomach tightened at the other’s response, eyelashes lowering momentarily, before constructing a reply.

 

_Of course I’m okay with it._

_We’re a...thing, aren’t we? Like an item._

_Obviously if I’ve completely misread things just tell me; it’s fine._

_I don’t want to completely balls up this thing._

_I’m enjoying it too much for that._

 

He rubbed his hand across his face. Maybe he was coming on too strong?

 

_Well, I don’t know._

_I think you know what I mean?_

_Just tell me to chill if you think I need to chill._

_That’s what the kids are saying these days right?_

_-Simon_

 

As soon as he pressed send, Simon regretted it. Why would he even allude to the fact that Kieren was younger than him? Way to make it weird, Simon.

 

_Sorry, do you want me to say ‘my boyfriend’ more?_

_okay, my boyfriend, Simon_

_We’ll go out to dinner, and stop freaking out_

_I was just making sure you weren’t completely put off by my bad attempts at sexting you_

_-Kieren_

 

_Well they were pretty bad._

_Are you free tonight?_

_At about eight?_

_-Simon_

_When was the last time you sexted?_

_1970?_

_Uh, I don’t know_

_I’m new on meds_

_you’d want to hang out with me somewhere like a restaurant?_

_if not, we can just watch something shitty and eat crappy food_

_I’m cool with just spending time with you_

_-Kieren_

 

And now he was smiling at his phone again, like an idiot. Thankfully, Kieren was decidedly long past the point of berating himself for it.

 

_Whatever you feel comfortable with._

_And excuse me,I maintain a healthy sexting schedule._

_If you want to just watch a movie we can._

_-Simon_

_Have you seen anything in colour yet?_

_and yeah, maybe_

_this’ll sound pathetic but going outside is panic attack mayhem for me right now_

_so maybe not a restaurant_

_-Kieren_

 

_No, that’s not pathetic._

_I know exactly what you mean._

_Well, not exactly._

_When I was pretty bad it was difficult to go outside and not look for a dealer._

_-Simon_

 

Kieren’s teeth worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, rolling onto his side, arm propped on his elbow.

 

_I’ll bring something Disney. Have you seen Hercules?_

_you feeling okay today?_

_-Kieren_

 

_Is that a question?_

_Of course, I’ve seen Hercules._

_And yeah, I feel good._

_I always do when I talk to you._

_-Simon_

_Smooth._

_Okay, so pizza and not Hercules_

_Inception? Lion King?_

_-Kieren_

_Inception isn’t disney._

_Lion King 2._

_-Simon_

_I was suggesting movies, you twat_

_Lion King 2 then_

_See you at yours at 8_

_Love,_

_-Kieren_

 

Simon considered his reply carefully. His lips pressed into a thin line, before smiling softly.

 

_I’m really looking forward to it!_

_Wear something sexy._

_I’ll be the one wearing the hot jumper._

_Love,_

_ -Simon _

 

Kieren pressed the lock button on his phone with his thumb, ignoring the waiting screen for his bubble game, once the text messages had finally closed. The earlier spots behind his eyelids were still there, and God, if the way his stomach turned over with nausea had gone away, he might sleep easier. But as it was, with a smile that'd be hard to budge for a while, he could finally get some sleep before scouring for a movie he could throw upon Simon in a few hours.

He was thinking; Mulan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so so so so very sorry at how long this took us! Honestly, this chapter was done a month after we released the last one, but due to unfortunate personal circumstances (including the death of a close friend in January) we've been hard pushed to write anything at all, but we missed this (and you guys!) and now we're throwing this there, and have written half of the next chapter already! Thank you, if you're still reading this, and as you've probably noticed, this chapter is long but not really as complete as we'd like it to be, and there's an extra part that we hadn't finished writing and will put in the next chapter, so this one is mostly development and texting but a lot more prose up and coming! (and plot!)   
> Hold on to your happiness so far ;;;)


	12. Relaxation

When the movie began, Kieren had left it at sitting with his limbs placed stiffly, alternating to a weird kind of lanky slump, but always with his hand between himself and Simon. Sort of just brushing flesh, never entwining.    
  
20 minutes in, however, he’d shifted position to hold his weight up against Simon’s side, half leaning into him.    
  
He liked it like this - falling into eventual rhythm against the man who'd quickly become his boyfriend. It wasn't that it was awkward, because it truly wasn't, it was just about finding where they were with each other, what was okay. What wasn't. What could be. Kieren tried to be subtle about inhaling Simon's scent, with his head leant against his shoulder. He was probably brushing past the point of wondering if he was pushing too much and not giving the other enough leway to pull back, and falling into the habit of simply pushing, but a part of him found it difficult to help when he was in his presence.    
  
Well, if he was pushing too much, Simon didn't seem to mind it.    
  
So with that in mind, he laced their fingers together. His palms were probably sweaty. He pushed the thought out of his mind. Clearing his throat as if he didn't just make a very obvious move on Simon, he gestured out flippantly with his free hand to the familiar scene from Mulan on the TV. "This song pretty much caries the whole movie. I mean, I love all of them, but this one's clearly the best."

The fingers entwined with his own resurrected that familiar tug at Simon's stomach. This was Kieren. It was amazing how simple it was, just sitting beside the fair-haired male, his own fingers tracing lines of affection on the thinner ones. The paler ones.    
  
When Kieran had arrived at his door earlier, Simon had been almost shocked to discover how pale he was. Still, he remembered the beginning of his own medication journey. It really shouldn't be surprising that Kieren was reacting to them so negatively.    
  
Simon pushed the worry to the back of his mind, choosing instead to shift his gaze back towards Kieren. He had been watching Kieran for most of the evening, studying the twitching of his jaw or the soft movement of his smooth skin. The smoothness of Kieran's skin was really no comparison to his own harshly wrinkled husk. Really, the difference was almost depressing.    
  
"I  _ have _ seen Mulan before, you know," Simon shifted the hand that held Kieren's, allowing his thumb to caress the back of Kieren's hand slowly.

"You haven't seen it with my running commentary before," He quipped back, relaxing into the touch that Simon gave so freely, answering a question Kieren hadn't needed to ask.    
  
He let them continue with some silence, comfortable in it for a few moments, laughing when something funny happened in the movie, singing along under his breath when a song came on. He could get used to this.    
  
"Hey," He began, finally, when the movie was beginning to end. He'd seen this with Jem a million times anyway. He inclined his head from where it rested, looking up towards Simon's jaw. "Thanks for watching this with me. You didn't have to. It's a boring kids movie and it's probably not up your street but I really appreciate getting to sit here and do nothing with you." He let his eyelashes flutter against Simon's neck as he pressed his face into it, exhaling out through his nose, hard.    
  
He still felt like shit, but Simon always managed to make that feel like an afterthought and he was probably being the world's soppiest git right now but it felt right to say it. His fingers squeezed his. "I'll give you a thank you blow job or something later," He mumbled against Simon's flesh.

"I..." Heat reached Simon's cheeks and he breathed out heavily against the top of Kieren's head. "That's a hell of a thing to say, Kieren," Simon's teeth scraped against his lower lip, the hand not holding the other's continuously tapping non-rhythm onto the arm of the sofa beneath him. He swallowed deeply, the rising lump of nervousness thickening his accent. "Even if you're only joking."   
  
For a moment he paused, considering the smaller male leaning against his neck. "Kieren, I..." He sighed deeply, lifting his hands to press them against Kieren's arms, holding him away slightly. "I don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable, or like you have to...say those things because you're..." He paused once more, considering how to phrase the next sentence, "Possibly less experienced than I am. Because you're younger. That sort of thing isn't important to me if it's not important to you."

"Wait," Kieren started once more, after blinking a few times. He could see Simon's outline in the dim light of the TV. He looked so similar to that time by the lake in dull lighting. " _ What? _ "    
  
He took another moment to throw Simon a semi-annoyed, mostly confused look, even going as far as to let out a sardonic laugh. "Really? You think I'm just saying these things because I'm...I'm trying to prove something?" His brow furrowed, studying Simon's expression, gripping Simon's wrists so as to move his hands away from his arms, keeping his hold there. "Like I don't constantly want to just-..." He trailed off, averting his gaze to the side for a moment of consideration. Finally, he simply pushed Simon's hands away completely, moving his weight, which was likely ninety pounds whilst wet, onto his lap so as to straddle his legs.    
  
Kieren gave Simon a firm, serious and entirely wanting glance over. "Listen, Simon," He thought over the nights he'd spend thinking about Simon like this, beneath him, over him, whichever. Maybe his brain was sorting itself out with medical aid right now but that didn't take away from the times before then, and hardly incapacitated him. "If there's anyone I don't feel I have to prove myself with, it's you." He paused, letting out a breath. "And unless you have some weird kink or something, you need to shut up about the younger thing. You're right, it isn't important to me and I don't care about it. And for your information," He snorted. "I'm not  _ that _ inexperienced."

"Shit..." Simon couldn't help but to allow the curse to escape his lips, which were held in a surprised expression. A low bark of a laugh toppled from his lips as his stomach somersaulted at the contact. "You're always surprising me, Kieren Walker." His hand sought Kieren's hand once again, lifting it so that his lips could catch his favorite place to kiss: Kieren's wrist. The bitter memories that the scar must symbolise for Kieren felt warm against Simon's mouth. This was the taste of Kieren's struggles; struggles that Simon wished Kieren would claim as his own and that Simon could help sooth. In time, perhaps.   
  
"Not inexperienced?" He chuckled once again, fingertips stroking carelessly across Kieren's shoulder blades. "Tell me then. Tell me about your past experiences. I'll try not to get jealous." In an uncharacteristic flush of bravery, Simon leant forward, pressing his mouth against Kieren's collarbone.

He could barely help the shudder that washed over him at the touch, skin prickling with heat. It wasn't uncomfortable, being touched. Kieren never minded it before and if he couldn't stand it now, whilst he was 'recovering', he didn't mind Simon brushing his fingers over him in the slightest. He was feeling a little braver himself. Or stupid and this was absolutely going to drive home Simon's eventual this-is-a-huge-mistake factor once it was done. Whatever 'it' was.    
  
Kieren opened his mouth to respond. He wanted to tell Simon about his past experiences, but all he managed out was: "Well, there was that time I spent kissing girls, then I, uh, kissed some boys." He rolled his shoulders into a shrug.   
  
He desperately wanted to follow Simon's lead with this apparent dirty talk, but his stupid brain brought forth memories he didn't need right now.  _ Not now _ , he urged, willing them away. A shakier breath fell from his parted lips, and he gripped a fistful of Simon's usually neat hair and kept him against his neck for a moment, though it was loose enough that he'd take the hint if he wanted to pull back.    
  
Right now, he wanted this. Even if ‘this’ was just a sloppy make out session.   
  
The previous thoughts died down as he focused on the feeling of Simon's lips against his collar, encouraging him towards his neck. He cleared his throat, trying not to sound a little hoarse as he cursed his inability to not act like a teenager who'd done nothing at all around Simon. "I can't remember someone doing this though," He offered out, earnestly. "Or sticking their hand up my shirt," He hinted.

"Is that a hint, Mr Walker?" Simon winced slightly; he was ridiculously uncool right now. His head pulled away slightly, if only to watch Kieren with a half-lidded and lustful gaze. "Just make sure you tell me if you want to stop at any point. I don't want...it to feel forced." Momentarily his expression softened into a reassuring smile, before he placed his lips against Kieren's neck, teeth scraping at the expanse of soft flesh that he found there. He ensured that the bite was just hard enough to feel good, but too light to cause a mark.    
  
He hummed softly, lowering his hands to the hem of Kieren's shirt, lifting it up slightly to stroke at the skin of his hips. Simon's fingertips seemed to ignite with electricity at even the simplest of touches. Kieren just had that effect on him.

"'Mr Walker'?" Kieren snorted, though it trailed off into a low 'ah' sound at Simon's biting, combined with the touch at his hips. He had merely nodded at the other's attempt at re-assuring him, having not needed it to continue. He knew already that Simon would instantly stop if he asked. It was good - having that trust there felt special.    
  
Simon who knew about his scars and didn't care. Simon who saw Kieren's pale, gangly self and didn't care. Simon who wanted him. Wanted to touch him.    
  
Just that alone could have sparked a fire in his gut, as it had countless times before when he was on his own, but this was really something. Something both affectionate and raw. "I mean, you can be as slow as you want. I'm kind of ready and willing to just get on my knees in front of you," He blurted out, rather than said in the sultry and sexy tone he'd imagined he'd say it with. Still, it was out there. A breathless laugh escaped his lips. "Was that as completely stupid as it sounded?"

Simon sighed heavily, already feeling the slight restriction in his trousers. Had he always been that easy? Well it had been a long time since - no, no matter how he justified it, it was definitely Kieren that made him feel this way. "Yeah...so dumb,"    
  
The muscle in his jaw clenched visibly as he lifted his head, teeth and tongue attaching themselves to Kieren's right earlobe. "Kieren, I really want your mouth on me. Kiss me."

Kieren wanted to make a 'yes sir' joke, be as witty as he thought he could be, but somehow, all retorts caught in his throat and instead, he found himself complying immediately. He inclined his head after the shudder that had wracked his body had passed, capturing Simon's lips, fingers still threaded in his hair.    
  
His other hand gripped the collar of his shirt like something out of a cheesy love story, needing to find a grip on something lest he fall into the abyss that Simon was, savouring the wet warmth that his mouth provided as he pushed his tongue into it. God, he really needed to know if Simon was as hard as he was, because if he wasn't, Kieren was going to feel like a right twat when Simon eventually felt the way he'd reacted almost instantly. So, he moved his hips a little, shifting forward to place himself properly on top of his lap, rocking to create just a little friction - enough to feel for something. And something he found, because his stomach pretty much tied itself into a knot and his own dick twitched.    
  
"Jesus, Simon," He gasped against his lips, groaning. "Shit,"   
  
"Mhm," Simon hummed, although he wasn't sure how, since he had such difficulty breathing. His hands tightened on Kieren's hips, attempting to pull him closer. The movement, of course, created more friction between the two. He groaned, pulling his lips away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of them. "See what you get me like," He laughed softly, although the wanton expression hardly changed.    
  
Simon's lips moved back to nibble at the tender flesh of Kieren's neck. "You should...take responsibility, right?"   
  


"What are you trying to ask?" Another breathless laugh. Another gasp. His hips were pretty much moving of their own accord now.    
  
He partially knew what Simon was asking for; he just needed it properly confirmed. And wow, if him prompting didn't stir something within Kieren. He lowered his voice a little. "C'mon, 'Clyde', I've gotta know."   
  
Simon smiled. After all, he was so very aware of what game Kieren was playing. "You want me to say it, huh, ‘Bonnie’?" His eyes closed, pressing his face to the crook of Kieren's neck. Shit, it was difficult for him to think straight. It was difficult of him to think of anything other than Kieren, and Kieren's smell, and the way Kieren's hips rocked against his own, causing jolts of almost excruciating pleasure. "Your mouth. On..." His teeth scraped over his lower lip. It wasn't disrespectful if Kieren was the one that brought it up first. "On your knees."   
  
"My mouth on my knees?" He retorted with a snort, though he reluctantly peeled himself from the delicious friction that caused a small lump to form in his throat, moving to do as he was asked. He shifted himself to Simon's carpet, dropping down to his knees gracelessly and pushing Simon's thighs apart so as to better poise himself between them. "I can put them somewhere way better." He said, making sure that Simon knew, in a way, that he was definitely doing this and wanted to completely. He wanted to come across as confident in what he was doing, even if his fingers trembled a little on Simon's zipper, fumbling with it.   
  
In all fairness, it was a stiff zipper. Or that's what he told himself. Really, it was partially down to the adrenaline pounding in his ears, the excitement, the nervousness clenching his gut.    
  
After all, he'd never done this before, but he was incredibly willing to learn on the go. That meant pulling down Simon's zip and hooking his fingers in his underwear. He threw him a look, ignoring how his mouth already salivated at the patch of hair leading up Simon's stomach, let alone anything else. "You need to warn me, okay? Like," He couldn't help the small smile that curved his lips. "Is this going to hit me in the face as soon as I pull your boxers down?"   
  
Simon lifted his brow, lifting his hand to cover his face. More specifically, to cover the extreme redness of his cheeks. "Jesus Christ, Kieren. I'm not...a prepubescent boy."    
  
His voice felt dry with anticipation. Already, he couldn't stop thinking about returning the favour to Kieren. Simon's finger's parted, peering at Kieren through the gaps. "You look so fucking sexy, Kieren."   
  
And how could he say that, when to Kieren, he was peering at him with his clothes slightly disheveled, through his fingers as if Kieren still made him nervous, with his hair all over the place and looking so incredibly decadent it hurt?    
  
The lilt on his voice when he complimented him only furthered his resolve as he curled his fingers, lowering his eyelashes as he looked up to his boyfriend.  _ Boyfriend _ . Simon was his. He was going to take full advantage of that. He pulled at Simon's boxers, lowering them and his gaze as he did. No time for comparisons or for the insecurity that'd follow if he did, he encapsulated the other's length with his fingers, around his base, and did an experimental stroke upwards, watching Simon's face as he did so.

"You too," He breathed. "Seriously, you're so..." He moved to press his cheek to the back of his hand, stilling it for a moment, though he squeezed him hard.    
  
Finally, he tilted his head, pressing his open mouth to the side of Simon's cock. He tasted of something he couldn't quite place, but wouldn't easily forget. It wasn't unpleasant. He hummed a little, trying to recall as much of the porn he'd previously watched a possible. Kieren pulled back only to say, "Let me know if you want me to stop," and continued by taking the head of him in his wanting mouth, watching Simon still through hooded eyes.   


"Ah..." Simon's free hand clenched on the sofa seat beside him- the seat still warm from when Kieren was sitting there previously. "Shit, Kieren." Even if Kieren's technique wasn't the best he had been on the receiving end of, it was perhaps the most impassioned. Truely, Simon had never felt this way before to a simple touch.   
  
Kieren hummed his approval, taking more of him into his mouth in response, eager to please. Maybe he was trying to prove something, just a little, but it didn't matter anyway. He still felt like himself regardless.    
  
And speaking of feeling himself, his hand dropped to the front of his jeans, palming himself through them.    
  
They continued like that for a few minutes - Kieren dipping his hand into his own boxers and trying to find an okay angle to stroke himself to whilst he swirled his tongue around the tip of Simon, ducking his head semi-rhythmically as he wet his length and widened his own lips to accommodate. Honestly, he wasn't even sure time had passed at all, lost in the pleasure of it all, eyes squeezed shut and tongue flat against the bottom of Simon as he took him into his cheek over and over.   
  
"K-k..." He breathed out a laboured breath, the hand covering his face falling to take a handful of Kieren's blond locks. Simon noted the almost frantic movement below Kieren's waist. "You're touching yourself? God..." His tongue flicked over his lower lip, which was rapidly drying with his quick inhalations and groans. "It's like you're trying to make me finish already."   
  
"Mm," He managed back, spurred on by the hand in his hair, groaning deep in his throat. He pulled back, licking his lips of the saliva that was left there as his hand stroked and squeezed where his mouth had left. His other hand continued their administrations, frustrated and quick motions that didn't help his breathlessness in the slightest. "It's...really hard not to when you're like this," He admitted, panting a little. "It's hot,"    
  
He pressed forward, hand still moving as he gave Simon a wanting look that he hoped conveyed the urgency of 'lean down and kiss me please, now', his own eyes half lidded.   
  
It took Simon longer than usual to interpret Kieren's demanding look. He blamed in on the current situation and the fact that the current situation was doing an amazing job at turning his head to mush.    
  
He swallowed the lump in his throat, shifting to lean his head closer to Kieren's. It was a strain, but he was finally able to press his hungry mouth against Kieren's seemingly as hungry one. His tongue flickered over Kieren's lower lip, almost whimpering, pleading to taste the inside of Kieren's mouth.   
  
Kieren parted his lips, letting Simon explore his mouth, the kiss sending a tingling, electric sensation down his spine. Both hands quickened their motions, strokes feverish in their movements as he eagerly returned the kiss.  _ Oh God _ , were his thoughts as his breathing came out against Simon's lips as ragged and fast.  _ I'm going to make a mess of myself and he's going to be surprised and then laugh at me. _   
  
He couldn't really think much about it though, caught up in how Simon's mouth felt sliding against his, wet and hot and how his hand felt with him against his palm, still slick with his saliva. He was barely keeping it together as he breathed out the other's name against him.   
  
"Kieren..." He mumbled the other's name, both hands lifting to tangle his fingers in the blond bangs. His tongue continued to mouth-fuck the other. The knot in his stomach tightened, almost begging to unfurl and release. Still, he pushed through the sensation, holding back. "Kieren it's...soon..."   
  
That was it. Kieren nearly came into his palm right there, holding back himself as he pulled back from the kiss, leaning up as best as he could to slide his tongue against Simon's collar, right where the hem of the ugly jumper he wore was. His hand never stopped, pressed up close in between them, movements jagged but enthusiastic and wanting and many things that Kieren would need a good grasp of language to conjure up right now.    
  
He bit down at the skin of the bottom of his neck, shuddering a little, desperate for Simon to finish because of him. He wanted it so badly. He exhaled a louder moan this time against his skin, rocking his own hips into his hand. "Simon..."   
  
"Kieren I'm..." His hands cupped Kieren's cheeks, lifting his head, allowing himself the ability of looking into Kieren's eyes. "You're so beautiful. I ad-adore you..." Simon breathed out heavily once again, biting his lower lip hard enough to leave a small red mark. "I'm going to just," His eyes closed, unable to hold the doe-like gaze any longer, brow furrowing in pleasure. "I'm coming, Jesus Christ, Kier-..." Kieren's name was cut off with a groan and a shudder as the dark-haired male reached his climax.

Time had just stood still for a moment where Kieren tried to figure out what happened. His chest felt like it had constricted with warmth, and it was hard to breathe. His hand had slowed on himself, and completely stopped on Simon, aware of the mess between them but not quite ready to deal with it yet.    
  
When he started to feel less dazed, he realised what Simon had said and how it had thrown him off completely, but, as he began to justify it in his head, it was likely just one of those things people did when they climaxed. Maybe he didn't mean it.    
  
Either way, his heart ached and his stomach was tight and though he was turned on -  _ so _ turned on, holy shit - he still stopped the movements to his own aching length and pulled his hand away, placing a hand either side of Simon and using it to hold up his weight as he buried his face against Simon's jumper, against his chest. "Fuck," He exhaled again. "Fuck, that's...I'm definitely storing all of that away for a rainy day." He laughed, the sound high in his throat and almost hoarse.

Simon was quiet for a long moment, attempting to calm the throbbing of his heartbeat in his ears. The moment passed, however, and his eyes fell to Kieren's hand, noting, with a grimace, the thick liquid covering his fingers. "Jesus, sorry. I should have..." His voice was thick in his ears. "I should have warned you sooner."

"It's fine," He said honestly, not even remotely bothered about it. He remembered that it was even there with Simon's reminder, and wiped it messily down the front of his jeans. It wasn't like he hadn't done that before - they could be washed. A smile formed on his lips, breathing slightly uneven still, pulling back to look at Simon. "Honestly, it's completely fine. Look," He placed the digits in his mouth, so as to clean the rest of the mess lingering away. Still not an unpleasant taste, but maybe that was because he was a little enamoured with everything that was Simon right now. "Clean and everything,"    
  
He pressed a kiss to the corner of Simon's mouth. "Do you say sorry for everything?"

He winced as he watched the other wipe his hand, lifting a brow. "That's really quite disgusting." Simon's visage shifted from one of revulsion, to a much softer expression, a smile flickering on the corners of his lips. "I only apologise when I really care about the person I'm saying sorry too." His eyelashes lowered, their shadows flickering onto his high cheekbones. "You're really amazing, Kieren Walker." He stopped Kieren from moving away from the small kiss, placing his lips against the other's, before his hands dropped away. "You...uhm," Simon cleared his throat. If it was possible for the colour on his cheeks to redden then no doubt it would have. "Do you want a hand too?"

Kieren considered it. A small nagging doubt crossed his mind - the thought that Simon would see him completely vulnerable like that and whilst the thought was still tantalising, it was also terrifying. What if he laughed?    
  
He couldn't handle that right now.    
  
Even if he wanted to badly. He pressed smaller kisses to Simon's mouth, leaning into him, still on his knees. "I'm fine. You can owe me, if you want," He responded, closing his eyes and humming low in his throat for a moment. He was definitely saving the image of this whole event to the back of his mind where he could revisit it later. "I-," He started, only to be interrupted by a loud yowl from outside the nearby door.    
  
Now, he'd been around Simon's cats enough to know Pancake's particularly strange meow when he heard it. A laugh tumbled past his lips, raising an eyebrow in his boyfriend's direction. "This is probably going to happen a lot in future. Guess I can't sneak you into my student accomodation though."

The laugh lines around Simon's eyes wrinkled, a wide smile decorating his features. "No, let's definitely not do that. I may not get arrested but I'm willing to bet that faculty definitely wouldn't want me to be in a relationship with you." He linked his hands behind Kieren's back, resting his forehead against his boyfriend's.    
  
A sigh of contentment fell from his mouth. "I  _ definitely _ owe you one."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey dudes! 
> 
> I know this is two years late but AH WELL. If you're still reading this, we love you and hope to update regularly! 
> 
> Enjoy the smut because things are planned!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the format is strange - this is actually an ongoing rp!  
> Italics will always be texts and emails!


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